Dragon Ball: Universe
by Nex
Summary: An Alien Empire, has closed its iron fist around Earth, slaying the planet's defenders. Uubu, Goku's former student, leads a rebellion against impossible odds. The future of the Universe is in the hands of a new generation of heroes. Feedback Please!
1. Prologue

Author's Note:  
This Prologue takes place about 15 years after the end of the normal timeline in the Dragonball Z series… The actual fic happens about another 15 years after that, but like I said, this is just the prologue…  
  
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The figure scurried amongst the shadows of Western City, holding the gaping wound on his arm. He was powered down now… they shouldn't be able to find him… He slid to a halt, nearly falling over backwards from the inertia. Searchlights…  
  
Seeing only one option, he looked up, leaping above the city street and on top of the apartment complex he had been standing next to.  
  
"GO!" Goku shouted, turning to look at Trunks and Gohan. "Get as far away as you can!" He and Vegeta powered up, racing towards the multitudes…  
  
Attempting to push the memory from his mind, he stood up, sprinting across the rooftop, trying to stay low. In the distance, the firefight was still continuing, with Earth's airforce trying futilely to repress the threat that had so quickly overtaken them. Fires burned across the city, illuminating the young man's face as he fought with determination to press on. His wife was dead, his twin sons left alone…  
  
Before he could do anything about it, the government had taken them, placing them in an orphanage along with the thousands of other parentless children. More had been popping up as of late, a result of the devastating attacks that Earth had been receiving. His first priority was to get to them, and Gohan's son, and then escape with one of Capsule Corps.' space shuttles. It was the only way…  
  
Trunks gasped, nodding in shock and turning to run. "Gohan, come on!" he cried, taking a hold of the man. "We have to get out of here!"  
  
"No," Gohan simply stated. "I'm not going to let these two die alone."  
  
"You'll die, Gohan!"  
  
"So be it." He erupted into hissing bolts of electricity, and leaped forward to join his father in the battle…  
  
Trunks cursed, wishing that he could push the memory away. Right now, he needed to focus, and later he could mourn. Piccolo should already be waiting at Capsule Corp…  
  
The visitors had arrived with seemingly non-hostile intentions, with the Z warriors watching the meetings from afar. They called themselves the Galactics, a race of people with glowing yellow eyes, and hauntingly blue skin. From the moment that Trunks had seen them, he did not like them. Neither had any of them for that matter. There was something about the aliens so reminiscent of Frieza, or Cell… That driving urge to conquer and infiltrate. If only they had done something sooner…  
  
Before the chaos could be remedied, it was too late. The Galactics turned out to be a race of warriors, much like the saiyajin, whose only goal was to destroy Vegeta. While out on his own mission to find Goku during his disappearance after their fight with Frieza, the saiyajin prince had destroyed many planets, hoping to kill his rival during the process. One of these planets had unknowingly held the heir to the Galactic throne…  
  
Unfortunately for them, the Galactics were a patient, calculating, and unbelievably powerful race. For the past 25 years, they had been preparing for the moment where they could come and deliver vengeance. Apparently, not only did they want revenge, but more power for themselves. Earth's many military and commercial trading outposts in space had been building up for many years, and had reported several simultaneous strikes to their spaceports, and planets, all being completely over run by these matchless aliens… Goten was undoubtedly on one of these, having decided to try his hand at making money in the free trade of the stars… Trunks wondered if he was still alive.  
  
Within recent years, the universe had become a vast market, with free travel between interplanetary systems. Capsule Corp. was a manufacturing powerhouse, and had become the center for space travel in its many branches, now an enterprise across the galaxy.  
  
The lilac-haired saiyajin could make out the building in the distance. He gasped, noticing the swarm of Centurions barreling towards it. They rushed right past him, nearly throwing him over from their sheer speed and size.  
  
Along with the Galactics had come the Centurions, the enormous robotic soldiers…  
  
"What the hell is that?!" Vegeta shouted, leaping backwards to fire a blast of ki into his attacker's face. The Z warriors grouped together, sliding to a halt in the center of the Galactic armies. They had been busy fighting both the army, and the generals, beings with freakishly high power levels, that just wouldn't go away. They were well-bred fighters, and their techniques were simply amazing…  
  
"What?" Goku asked, looking around.  
  
"That!" Vegeta pointed forward, looking on in astonishment. The robotic construction stood over thirty feet tall, resembling a Galactic, sporting golden armor. It was flying towards the warriors…  
  
"No!!" Trunks shouted, firing up into the second super-saiyajin form. Piccolo could not take on 3 Centurions alone… They began to fire a torrent of artificial ki blasts down onto the structure of Capsule Corp., decimating it as they did so. A lone shuttle launched from within, escaping through the flames and wreckage. It fired several rounds of pulser shots, tearing the arms off of one of the gargantuan fighters. Piccolo…  
  
Just as expected, the Namek was not very experienced with flight. He ejected from the ship, as it went careening through a nearby building. The concrete tower toppled over as a result, crashing down to the Earth below. Trunks hoped that the shuttle would be alright. These newer prototype models were allowed a plethora of damage.  
  
He flew onto the scene, clubbing his fists to slam one of the Centurions in its back. It flipped forward viciously, breaking through the pavement to fall into the subway system. Steam and fire gushed forth from the opening, pouring into the night sky. That wouldn't hold it off for long…  
  
The saiyajin turned his head just in time to see one of the attackers swat Piccolo through the air, sending him through an already devastated building. He was back in no time, his fists raised in preparation…  
  
If there was one thing to admire about Piccolo, it was that he never gave up. The Namekian shouted in fury, firing a powerful wave of ki against his foe, throwing it from its feet to crash into the fiery remains of Capsule Corp. In the distance, Trunks could see more of the robotic monstrosities on their way…  
  
"Piccolo! We have to go!" Just then, a hand lunged forth from the smoke, sending a blast of ki into the Namek's side, causing him to cry out in pain. He was sent bouncing across the ground, slamming into the shuttle's hull coincidentally. This was not good.  
  
Trunks flew down to him hurriedly, turning to look over his shoulder in desperation. They were closing in, and fast. Several more explosions of ki were being fired off all around him as he raced to find his friend. He landed at his side, turning his right arm behind him to throw several blindly placed balls of ki towards his pursuers. Piccolo was standing groggily, blood pouring from his lip.  
  
"Piccolo, get in the shuttle," the saiyajin ordered him.  
  
"We'll never have enough time to get off the ground and get away from here," Piccolo countered.  
  
"I'll hold them off. Go!" Trunks turned again, shouting in anger as he launched a hail of ki towards the approaching Centurions.  
  
"But what about the kids?!" Piccolo shouted over the deafening explosions. From the opposite direction, several large ki's were coming, and fast. Trunks gritted his teeth, cursing in frustration.  
  
"Just leave!" Tears were streaming down his face now, as the rumble of the walking Centurions grew ever closer… "Leave Earth!"  
  
"But-"  
  
"Go! The kids should be fine where they are for now…" Piccolo grunted, not too fond of the sudden plan. Trunks groaned. He wasn't that up for it, either, but it was the only way. Trying to get to the kids now would only possibly alert the Galactics as to who they really were, and they would certainly be killed. "Just promise me this," Trunks turned, staring into the elder's face. "You will return, and you will make them strong enough to defeat these monsters!"  
  
Piccolo nodded, and climbed inside of the spacecraft. Just then, a blast of ki came sailing towards them. Trunks whipped around, deflecting it into the sky with his forearm. It burst in the vault of heavens with an ironically beautiful radiance, a sharp contrast to the ugliness of what was happening below.  
  
The super-saiyajin leaped from the ground, hearing the sounds of the jet engines roaring into existence behind him. The shuttle departed, shooting off into the stars, as the Centurions tried to take it down from the ground. Trunks soon distracted them, powering up to fire several blasts of ki towards them. One of them exploded instantly, but the other two were not as unfortunate as their partner. They evaded the blasts, countering with some of their own. Two more Centurions joined the mix now, closing in on Trunks from the other side. He did his best to avoid the onslaught of power coming his way, but to no avail. A metallic fist soon caught him in the back, thrusting him away wildly to the concrete earth. He slammed into it painfully, turning to look up at the engineered soldiers that were standing above him.  
  
"I'm counting on you, Piccolo," the young saiyajin whispered, lowering his head in defeat. Trunks' last memory was of the giants lifting their arms, charging balls of ki from their palms…  
  
And then he was gone. 


	2. Chapter 1

16 years later…  
  
He watched the blackened skies mixing with the sunset's orange hue, casting golden light to dance off of the shimmering buildings in the distance. Overhead, shuttles and civilian craft alike scurried to and fro, racing to parts of the city that he could not see from his spot in the institution courtyard. A few drops of rain began to trickle down, washing over his face to splatter at an end on the dirt below. He closed his eyes, wishing he could get lost in the scenery…  
  
"What's wrong, John?" The pig-faced teen shoved him back down in to the ground once more. "Can't defend your little brother?" His friends snickered behind their larger buddy, watching in delight as he continued to tease the two brothers.  
  
"I don't need defending!" James shouted. While they were twins, they were not identical. James was of smaller stature than John, with long black hair that stood straight up on his head. James was slightly different, having lilac colored hair that fell down nearly to his shoulders. This was one of the main reasons that the other kids at the institution felt the need to pick on them. As long as he could remember, they had engaged in this constant tug-of-war that would never diminish. It usually ended up with someone getting hurt… Frankly, John was getting sick of it.  
  
"Back off," a voice suddenly rang from the other side of the courtyard. The group hushed, turning to see the familiar figure standing behind them. John sighed, thankful that their friend Shawn had joined the mix. He walked forward slowly, moving his large frame through the middle of the attackers. "Is there a problem here?"  
  
"I don't know," the leader snorted. "Why don't you ask your dead sister?"  
  
Shawn grit his teeth, clasping a shaky hand to the locket with the girl's picture. Like the rest of them, he did not know any family or relatives, all having been destroyed when the Galactics were infiltrating their reign onto the planet. But, unlike the others, Shawn had a bit of a memento: a locket with a single picture in it, with the name "Pan" scrolled into the front face. Though he did not know her while living, it was still a soft spot for anyone. John watched as his companion walked up to the group.  
  
"Say that again."  
  
"Why don't you ask your dead sister, freak!" The boy reared back, punching Shawn directly in the nose, causing him to stumble backwards helplessly. As the rest of them saw their cue, they all burst forward into activity, attacking both James and John without care. Two of them thrust hard punches directly into John's gut, doubling him over in pain as they continued to pound him relentlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three of the other boys kicking Shawn to the ground. He clenched his fists, watching in torment as two other ones went after his brother. With a single punch, they sent blood spraying from his lip, coating the ground below.  
  
"Stop…" John hissed, gritting his teeth.  
  
"What was that?" One of the others asked, snickering. He sent yet another punch into John's face. The bones of his hands cracked upon impact with his skull, and he shouted in pain. The others looked in his direction, noticing the screaming comrade.  
  
"Leave him alone!" John didn't know what was coming over him… Suddenly, a brilliant heat seemed to pass through his body, and he ran towards the leader. Taking a hold of him by his arm, he lunged with everything he had in him, tossing his body through the brick wall at the other end of courtyard. As the other boys were gathering around him, he planted his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs…  
  
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J'erah tapped his fingers viciously on the ivory desk before him. He hated this place. With a passion, he hated this place. Why they would choose to run an empire from Earth was beyond him, but he wasn't in charge. He might as well have been, though.  
  
Grunting, he scanned his office, looking for some way to vent his frustration. Things were so boring lately… Everything was over run, and there was nothing left for him to do. He felt like a waste of good military know-how, and raw power. It was he that had destroyed Son Goku, the "defender" of Earth all those years ago, and his son, Gohan. Now what did he have to show for it? Cursing, he stood up, throwing his chair back in the process. Suddenly, before he had the chance to do anymore damage, his display blinked to life.  
  
"Good day, J'erah," the metallic operator said hollowly.  
  
"Good day, Operator," he hissed, letting himself calm down. "What do you want?"  
  
"A message has passed through to you from the highest sector of the Western City Institution…"  
  
"I don't care," he reached forward to shut off the monitor.  
  
"Something tells me that you do, sir," the robot jabbered gravely. In a flash, the image of burning rubble flashed onto the screen…  
  
"I'm listening..."  
  
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"You said that they were dead," General Lernam grunted, his yellow eyes releasing a haunting glow.  
  
"Don't start with me," J'erah rolled his eyes. "I found the boys just like you asked, and I killed them myself. Vegeta and Boxers Briefs, and Gokan."  
  
"And you're absolutely sure of this?" Another one of the Counsel members objected.  
  
"Give him some credit, Abgar," Leara said sarcastically. "He could snap you like a twig, and for some reason, you think that he would have trouble killing a couple of saiyajin newborns." J'erah nodded. Out of the Counsel, he had to respect Leara the most. She was a retired bounty hunter and ex-assassin, thus, being the only one with any kind of similarity to himself. She proved to be a very useful ally…  
  
Without warning, the large communication screen at the end of the table hummed into view, displaying the glowing eyes of Tyran, Emperor of the Galactic Empire… Just his face sent chills down J'erah's spine, and that said a lot in and of itself. He was a man hardened beyond all recognition, but just the face of Tyran on a display screen could make him cringe. Though J'erah stood high on the ladder of command, he had only had a few personal encounters with the ruler of their vast kingdom, and each time, his entire persona was shaken up from nerves. He had never glimpsed even a portion of the being's power, but knew that it had to be far superior to his own, seeing as how even a spoken word from the villain could make him recoil back in fear. Lately, he had been frequenting them with his presence less and less it seemed… Rumor was that he was sick, or getting less able to rule with his old age. Only time would tell…  
  
"I trust that my Counsel members are making effective use of the time I have given them," his bass voice boomed across the conference table. Everyone felt a hushed tingle run across their bodies, as they sat down in reverence.  
  
"Yes, Your Eminence," Abgar replied.  
  
"I would hope so," he commented. "Let's get down to business… J'erah? What do you have to say for yourself?"  
  
"Nothing, my Lord," J'erah said with confidence masking his voice, though he felt none. "I killed the saiyajin children years ago."  
  
"Or so you thought," Lernam tossed in.  
  
"Or so I thought," J'erah repeated, casting him a vicious glance. "The Institution nurses found me the babies with the appropriate tags, and I disposed of them properly."  
  
"So the answer is obvious," Leara countered. "There was a mixup in the labeling process."  
  
"So it seems…" Tyran said gruffly. "So it seems. Well, let us fix the problem. J'erah, I want you to return to the Institution to dispose of the children, again. This time, finish the job."  
  
"Of course, my Lord."  
  
"I object," Abgar interrupted. "He messed up before, what says that he won't mess up again."  
  
J'erah clenched his fists, struggling with everything he had to not incinerate the man right where he sat. Abgar wasn't necessarily weak, but J'erah could kill him if he had to. "And what do you propose?" he asked, restraining the anger in his voice.  
  
The plump being stood to his feet, turning to the elder General Lernam, whose gray hair was trim neatly upon his head. "I propose that your Eminence sends myself and General Lernam to remedy the situation."  
  
"Very well, then," Tyran said, eyeing them warily. "Go, and bring them here." The display shut off.  
  
"Be careful, though," J'erah said suddenly. The others turned to look at him, knowing that he was not one to sound concerned for the likes of others.  
  
"Oh?" Lernam asked sarcastically. "I thought they were just children…"  
  
"Did you read the damage reports?"  
  
"I must confess, I have not," Lernam replied sardonically again. "Why don't you inform me?"  
  
"These 'children' destroyed most of the institution, built to withstand heavy airborn assault…" The Counsel looked at one another. Good. He had gotten their attention. "Shall I continue? They also leveled entire city blocks on the eastern end of the compound, and took out civilian and military shuttlecraft that were flying overhead. Be ready for anything, gentlemen. Be ready for anything… " With that, he turned and left the room, leaving the two men to ponder silently over the choice that they had just made for themselves.  
  
He doubted that there was an actual mix-up in the identification of the children, more than that, there was a chance that someone had actually switched the tags on purpose. Someone who was ready to defend the saiyajin at all costs. Such a person would have to be either incredibly powerful, or insane… Either way, J'erah did not want to be on the receiving end of what they had to offer.  
  
He made his way down the hall to throw open the doors of the training room. He would have to vent his frustrations on a couple of helpless grunts… 


	3. Chapter 2

Shawn stirred slightly, groaning as he rolled over… or tried to. Something was keeping him from moving. After a second of thought, he realized that he was electronically sealed to the bed, the energy bolts racing around his body to lock securely in their receptors on each side of the frame. He opened his eyes, scanning the room. The confinement sector. Why was he here?  
  
A quick movement caught his eye, followed by the noise of someone shuffling through the darkness.  
  
"Who's there?" he demanded. "Why am I in here?"  
  
"Shhh…" came the quick reply.  
  
Shawn grit his teeth, ready to shout at the top of his lungs, when the current locks abruptly fizzled away. He was free to move again, and sat up as fast as his body would let him. He moaned loudly, feeling sore, taut muscles that seemed as if they were ready to snap under any more movement. He grabbed his side in pain, and winced at the rush of lactic acid that had no doubt built up throughout his body.  
  
The stranger in the room with him moved to the bedside, grabbing a hold of him to pull him to his feet. His grip was strong, yet supple, an odd contrast in hands that couldn't have been too old.  
  
"Who are you?" Shawn whispered.  
  
The stranger said nothing, and moved to the door of the room. The confinement sector was a drab, heavily guarded area in the institution. Some of the guards were of the Galactic race, but many were human as well. It ran in a narrow hallway, it's darkly lit exterior hardly making it a pleasant place to dwell for too long. It's walls were made of old, cracking concrete, being one of the oldest parts of the structure. Shawn wondered why it was not sturdier than the rest of the compound, but then again, they were only children. A primitive-looking light was swinging back and forth in the hallway, throwing its net of light back and forth across the way. A steady drip could also be heard from around the corner… The stranger turned around to face Shawn, motioning for him to follow. With a quick, silent movement, he thrust the door ajar, throwing glances back and forth down the hallway. He stepped out into the light, revealing black skin, and a small, but built frame. Shawn thought he recognized him somehow, but that thought was lost as soon as he saw the knocked out Galactic on the floor next to the door.  
  
"What the-"  
  
"Excuse me," the dark figure said, picking up the guard as if he weighed nothing, casting him behind them into what was Shawn's confinement area. "Ok, let's go."  
  
"What the heck is going on?" Shawn whispered quietly, following the man closely. "Why was I in confinement?"  
  
The helper smiled, tossing him a brief glance. "See for yourself…" He pointed through a set of barred windows, stopping as he showed the way. Shawn looked, and was totally amazed at what he saw…  
  
The once grandiose courtyard of the institution was left in shambles, completely decimated. Emergency shuttles had their searchlights scanning the area, searching through the rubble for possible victims. The massive wall had also been completely torn over, a circular path of destruction fanning out into the city beyond, with small fires still flickering in the aftermath…  
  
"Dear God," Shawn whispered. "What did this?"  
  
"You and your friends."  
  
What? "That," Shawn said emphatically. "Is not possible." His voice echoed about the dim corridor, but he didn't care. He wanted some answers.  
  
"Is it?" The figure stepped forward under the light fixture, the glow shining upon his face.  
  
Shawn peered at him curiously. "Aren't you the janitor?"  
  
He said nothing, turning away to continue his journey down the hall. "Let's find your friends."  
  
"You didn't answer my question," the teen called, jogging to catch up. All around them, the fallen bodies of knocked out guards were scattered about.  
  
"And?" The familiar custodian came to a halt, peering into the room right before them.  
  
"Who's out there?!" The guard from within shouted, stepping up to the view port. The stranger kicked in the door, knocking it from its hinges to smash directly into the soldier's face. He collapsed underneath its concentrated weight and fell unconsciously to the floor beneath. Shawn couldn't help but gawk at the visitor. That was inhuman… Almost like the stories about those who had tried to defend Earth against the Galactics…  
  
On the beds, Shawn could make out the sleeping figures of his friends James and John. The stranger moved to the control panel at the far end of the room, and shut it off with a few buttons. They stirred awake, blinking away the hours of sleep, and looking to the two of them.  
  
"What's going on?" James asked.  
  
"Yeah…" John echoed. The smaller youngster stood groggily out of bed, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously.  
  
"Shawn, why are you walking around with the janitor?" James inquired.  
  
Shawn shrugged, as all eyes rested on the stranger. "Beats me."  
  
"James and John," he whispered, eyeing them both up and down. "Or should I say, Vegeta and Boxers?" Shawn stared at him suspiciously. What was he talking about? "And Shawn, formerly Gokan…"  
  
"What are you talking about?" James demanded, stepping forward. "Who are you?"  
  
"Hmm… you look and act just as your grandfather did… A true warrior. And you, like your father." He nodded towards John. "And Gokan, just as his grandfather."  
  
"You know my family?" Shawn asked abruptly. His hand went to the locket about his neck.  
  
"I knew them, yes," the stranger replied, smiling at him. "I see you still have the picture of your sister, Pan…"  
  
"How did you know them?"  
  
"My name is Ubuu. Your grandfather was my trainer, and the hero of Earth, Son Goku. His son was your father, Gohan."  
  
Shawn felt his jaw drop to the floor. There was no way… All of his life, they had read about the defenders of their planet, the heroes of old… Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he was actually related to them. He wanted to believe that it wasn't true. It just didn't make any sense whatsoever. But somehow, it felt right… Like he always knew. They had always been different from the other boys, set apart. Now they knew why… They had saiyajin blood coursing through their veins… They were warriors at heart. He turned his gaze to James and John, noticing that they were just as shocked as he was.  
  
"And you two," Ubuu commented, turning to the twins. "Have definitely lived up to all expectations. Your grandfather was Vegeta, who I'm sure you've heard about in the Galactic wars, and your father, Trunks." He chuckled again, his friendly face lighting up. "It's only fitting that the Earthly names I chose for you were James and John… In the Bible, they were known as the 'Sons of Thunder'…"  
  
"What do you mean?" John asked. "You chose our names?"  
  
"I was urged by your parents to not participate in the fight against the Galactics, so that they would not know my face… I hated every second, watching them all perish one by one… However, it did allow me to watch after the three of you as you grew up, and protect you along the way."  
  
"Protect us from what?" Shawn asked, a bit of urgency sounding in his voice.  
  
"The Galactics," Ubuu answered. "Knowing that the sons of the saiyajin would have potential to rise against them in the future, they destroyed children that were wearing your identification labels, which I switched. Now, they have seen evidence of your power, and have sent generals here even as we speak."  
  
"Wait," John said, shaking his head. Shawn looked towards him, recognizing that voice that always seemed to get them into trouble. "So you're telling me that we're aliens from another planet, with the power inside of us to free the Earth from bondage?"  
  
Ubuu nodded.  
  
"And we're supposed to believe that you, the janitor, are some super human warrior?"  
  
Ubuu nodded again. "Do you?"  
  
"From the looks of that guard and that door… It doesn't really matter what I say."  
  
"Good," Ubuu said. "Let's get out of here." He quickly hopped through the door, leaving the teens to shrug, and then follow. Shawn stayed close behind him, with James and John right on his haunches. They came to a stop at the window, staring in awe at the destruction that Ubuu had earlier mentioned.  
  
James swallowed hard. "We did that?"  
  
"Yes," Ubuu responded. They watched the outside activity in silence, letting the moment be absorbed by their young minds. It was all so new… Ubuu breathed deeply, patting Shawn on the shoulder. Suddenly, he snapped to attention.  
  
"We have trouble." 


	4. Chapter 3

Dragonball: Universe   
  
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He was short, he was fat, and he was getting on General Lernam's last nerve. Why Abgar was made into a member of the counsel in the first place was beyond the elder, save for his strength and surprising combat know-how. The General sighed, turning away from the nuisance. He would get his one day…  
  
"So you're saying that you've lost all contact with the guards?" Lernam addressed the institution headmaster.  
  
"Yes, Sir," the headmaster replied confidently, unusually so for a human of his stature and age. "We did not wish to do anything until the arrival of the counsel."  
  
Abgar could not resist. "And what if there had been some sort of accident-" Lernam held up a hand to silence his comrade.  
  
"To our knowledge, the children have yet to actually escape, Sir," the young headmaster replied once more. "Our men our situated on guard at the corridor awaiting your orders." Overhead, the emergency craft were still busy at work, their searchlights combing over the area as the three walked towards what was left of the containment facilities. Abgar was falling slightly behind Lernam and the headmaster, who was shockingly nimble.  
  
"Tell me, boy, are you new to this institution?" The Galactic General asked. "Yes, Sir, just transferred here from the Satan City institution, where I served as containment warden, so to speak," the headmaster replied. "They felt my services would be of better use here in the Western City institution."  
  
"Ah, I must admit that I am impressed," Lernam said after much thought. The Satan City institute had been falling to pieces anyway. Many of the superiors no longer cared who came in and out of it, save for this one. "You must be rather intelligent."  
  
"Not as intelligent as the counsel, Sir," he answered, opening the door for the two Galactics as they stepped inside. "That's why we were waiting for you."  
  
"My hypothesis proves to be correct," Lernam smiled at the compliment. Over the years, the humans had somewhat learned their place under Galactic rule, as had all aliens for that matter. Force was not to be used until force was necessary, which was rarely. They simply wished to better the universe by placing its rightful intellectual line of thought at the top of the heap- themselves. Despite stamping out various uprisings against them, one still remained, on Earth of all places. It was a group that called themselves the "Wayward". Lernam cursed at the mere thought of the name. The resistance was smart, never poking its head out of a hole long enough to be smashed, but always long enough to leave its mark. Often times, the Galactics could not even sense the ki of the individuals who fled from the scenes of the crime, making it rather difficult to trace them…  
  
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Abgar's voice interjected rather obnoxiously. The General glanced around, ignoring his partner's comment. They appeared to be walking through the education wing as of now… It was ornate with various figures of both Earth's and the Galactic's history, prominent figures to each of the races that take up dwelling within this planet.  
  
"Are the guards still holding their positions?" Lernam asked.  
  
"Unit 18," the headmaster spoke into his headpiece. "Positions held?"  
  
"Of course, Sir," a woman's voice commented.  
  
"Good. Keep it that way. It'll be only another moment."  
  
Another moment? Lernam cocked an eyebrow towards the headmaster, who shut off his communication device, placing it within its holster at his belt. He would trust this human's judgment, for now. Hell, he trusted him even more than Abgar…  
  
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"Something wrong?"  
  
Ubuu stared quietly out of the window overlooking the central courtyard, not letting anything cloud his senses. "We're about to have to make a run for it," the man replied. "I want you kids to stay with me, no matter what happens… I'll protect you." Behind him, he heard their collective agreement, still keeping his vigil at the view port. It was only a few more moments…  
  
He sighed. It was hard to believe that the culmination of everything for all of these years was finally leading up to this. Everything that he had worked so hard for, and waited for… He could finally begin to avenge Goku. It was time.  
  
"Alright," he spoke up. "Get ready."  
  
-------  
  
"Here you go, gentlemen," the headmaster pressed the keypad before a large steel door, as it slid open before them. General Lernam looked around as he stepped through the doorway- into the central courtyard.  
  
"Where are we?" Abgar objected.  
  
"Shortcut," the boy replied. "Follow me." Abgar began to protest again, but the elder quieted him with a mere finger. Lernam followed closely, not liking the sense of caution that was running up and down his spine. The Galactics had an intuition for these kinds of things…  
  
Then he felt it.  
  
"What the-" A sudden explosion erupted in the building before them, coating it with flame, its shockwave hitting them forcefully. Right on its heels, Lernam felt a ki flash into existence, and then rocket away… someone was making a run for it.  
  
"Abgar! Follow them!"  
  
"With pleasure," the stout alien replied sinisterly. He powered up, and launched into the air, shooting off after whoever it was that left.  
  
Lernam grit his teeth, looking around for the headmaster. The weak human was no doubt dead at this point, the explosion was probably too much for him. The fires cascaded upwards into the night sky, casting its orange glow across the complex. Those kids had better not have escaped…  
  
"Looking for something?" A voice called from behind him. He whipped around to find the headmaster… and a young woman.  
  
"It's about time you showed up, 17," the girl replied. "It was awfully boring."  
  
"You didn't have to suck up to this slime, so I'd call it a fair trade off," the boy answered tauntingly.  
  
"Who are you?" Lernam asked, squaring his feet and clenching his fists. He would make short work of them… they didn't even have any registered ki.  
  
The girl looked at him coolly. "17 and 18, at your service."  
  
The one called 17 picked up his communication device once more. "You can go, Ubuu."  
  
Behind them, the walls of the confinement area came crashing down, kicking up dust and debris as the concrete slammed into the ground. Ubuu? The leader of the Wayward? Here? Lernam smirked… So they were trying to free the saiyajin children… He would put a stop to that.  
  
-------  
  
Abgar raced across the skies, pursuing the trail of ki viciously. He grinned. They were far too slow. Setting his strength, he powered up once more, launching rapidly towards the target…  
  
What the hell?  
  
He looked below him, having caught up to the "runaway"… It was merely a tiny ball of metal, leaving a trail of ki in its wake. A rather clever device, most likely designed to take their attention- which it did. Abgar smiled again. He would get the dirty humans who did this…He grabbed the instrument in his hand, bringing it before his blue-skinned face, observing it with the yellow eyes that were characteristic of a Galactic.  
  
He chuckled again, turning the ball over in his palm…  
  
Without warning, it suddenly released a tiny beep, opening up slowly before his eyes. He peered closely, waiting to see what was going to happen…  
  
And the next thing he knew, his body was wrapped in a powerful explosion.  
  
-------  
  
"AHHH!!!" With a powerful roar, Lernam's blue aura came into being, coruscating around him with its bright hue. He launched forward, slamming his fist into 18, much to her dismay. She was sent launching through the burning rubble, flipping head over heels to her death. While in midair, the General whirled around to find 17 gone…  
  
"Up here." He glanced up to meet the human's surprise attack, a fierce kick that came crashing against his skull. It sent him careening across the mud of the courtyard, bouncing along the way. There was no way a human could possibly deliver a blow with that much power behind it… So there was only one explanation. They weren't human.  
  
"I'll have to admit, robot!" he shouted. "You caught me off guard. But not again." With unmatched speed, he dove towards the 17, throwing his knee up into the android's gut. He followed up with a blow to the spinal column, launching his body through the air. Suddenly, he was rammed in the side by 18, recovered from her earlier assault. She continued her attack with a swift kick to the side, only to have it blocked and countered with an elbow to the sternum. She let out a loud shriek, rolling across the ground to strike against the concrete wall painfully… if she could even feel it. Lernam smirked. He may be getting old, but he still had quite the fighting spirit inside of him. Now, to finish these two off…  
  
"AHH!!" 17's scream reached his ears just before the fist connected with his temple. He stumbled backwards a few steps, planting his feet to slide in the dirt to halt his movement.  
  
"You're lucky I can't sense you," Lernam grunted, wiping the speck of blood from his cheek. "This will be most interesting, robot."  
  
"We shall see."  
  
They both shouted, darting forwards with fists raised… 


	5. Chapter 4

"Back!" Shawn was utterly amazed. He had read about the Galactics and other fighters being able to use "ki", but had never seen it demonstrated before. Ubuu thrust his body before them, throwing his arm out in a wide arc. The invisible force, like a wall, shoved the incoming soldiers back, flipping them skyward.  
  
Ubuu was directing them towards the clearing, with the destroyed towering wall looming ominously overhead. The emergency shuttles shifted their coordinates, turning their turrets to face the group of runaways…  
  
"Ubuu…" One of the brothers warned.  
  
"I see it, John," he answered without hesitation. Shawn noted that these were standard, not military craft. That meant that more heavily armed reinforcements were more than likely heading their way…  
  
"Get back behind the wall!" Ubuu instructed. Shawn looked towards the others fearfully, who only nodded and did as the man told. Together, the three dived behind the demolished concrete pillar, peering around its edge to watch what was about to unfold. "This is unreal," John commented, his lilac hair thrown over his eyes.  
  
"What was your first tip off?" James replied dryly.  
  
Normally, the two would have continued the little spat, but this called for different measures. The three saiyajin ancestors observed closely, staring in awe as the dark warrior sprinted through the rubble and still burning fires of the once beautiful courtyard, dodging all of the turret pulser fire that came his way. The energy bolts ripped through the ground and concrete beneath, shredding the earth in its wake. Ubuu took no notice to this, hopping this way and that, all the while keeping his concentration with ease as the gunfire shred every which direction around his body. He cart wheeled between two of the streams, using one hand to plant himself and hold the rest of his frame in the air, leaping off and performing an aerial spin, stopping himself in mid-flight and changing directions.  
  
"Holy God," Shawn said.  
  
"Indeed," James answered.  
  
Ubuu connected a powerful fist with one of the shuttles, the impact launching the metallic aircraft into the distance violently. Without changing direction, he placed his hand behind him, fired a ball of yellow ki at the other. The explosion erupted brilliantly, and cast its reflection upon the teens watching from below. Shawn practically felt his jaw drop. This was just too much. Was it really possible that he and the others could do this? He turned the thought over and back again in his mind. Gokan, Boxers, and Vegeta. The hope for the universe… The sound of Ubuu calling to them shook him out of his trance. More ground troops were coming from the city now, with sirens blairing…  
  
"Come on, we need to get going," the reincarantion of Buu spoke quickly as he descended. The kids nodded, removing themselves from their hiding place…  
  
"Not so fast!" A blue blur suddenly connected with Ubuu, thrusting him back several steps. Shawn gasped, stumbling backwards over his own feet, only to trip over a piece of rocky debris to land flat on his back. What just happened?  
  
Next to him, John and James both were transfixed, completely motionless at what they were watching…  
  
Shawn recognized the figure as one of the Galactic counsel he had seen from time to time on the news. He was short, plump, and sporting the characteristic insignia of the Galactic army across his tattered vest, burned to a crisp by some kind of power explosion apparently. Is that what they had heard a minute ago? His yellow eyes bore against Ubuu's calm ones.  
  
"Abgar," the fighter rubbed his jaw with calloused fingers.  
  
"And who, may I ask, are you, human?" The Galactic demanded. "Someone so audacious to oppose the Counsel?"  
  
"My name is Ubuu," he answered. "Leader of the Wayward." He cast the kids a brief glance, and Shawn thought he saw a hint of worry in those soft eyes. Was it for them, or did he not think he was powerful enough to handle the alien? Or maybe both…  
  
"Oh, then these are the saiyajin children, I take it?" Abgar gestured with his hand. Ubuu said nothing. "Good, then my work here is done." He raised his other hand unexpectedly, firing a volatile blast of ki. Ubuu's body was completely overtaken in the detonation, followed by a vicious cloud of smoke that swept over the courtyard. Shawn covered his eyes from the explosion, and felt himself lift from the ground to collide painfully against what was left of the institution wall. James and John followed, connecting on either side of him.  
  
Ubuu… Shawn picked his body from the ground, glancing around to try to see through the haze. He could make out the figure of Abgar, standing alone within the fading fog. The smoke eventually cleared, and left only him, chuckling softly to himself.  
  
"What else could I expect from a human?" He commented, turning towards the children.  
  
Without warning, he stopped, turning around to be met in the face with a brutal elbow from Ubuu. His body tumbled backwards, sliding a deep trench within the mud. He was up in no time flat, sprinting towards the student of Goku with renewed vigor. The two met powerfully, the force of their collision sending a shockwave that resounded throughout the city next to them. Windows shattered, and shuttle alarms were set off. "Oh no," James suddenly nudged Shawn, distracting his attention from the battle.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The military is on its way here, right?"  
  
He was right. The three ran quickly to the edge of the wall, sliding to their knees to peek around the corner. In the distance, they could make out the lights of the G X9's, galactic fighters, rushing quickly their way, all encompassing lights shining to illuminate the city underneath. Along with them were the transport frigates, bringing troops… Shawn turned back to look towards the others fearfully. If Ubuu didn't hurry, this whole thing was going to go straight to hell.  
  
-------  
  
17 felt the rough hands of General Lernam smash against his skull once more, clubbing him upwards to send him sprawling. His arms flailed helplessly as he slammed into the mud hard. He opened his eyes, witnessing the veteran warrior's vault through the air towards him…  
  
Rolling out of the way just in time, the android hurled himself away, throwing a blast of ki towards his opponent. It kicked up an explosion that caught even him off guard, and spent his frame to spin like a top. Barely, he managed to land the manuever, sliding to a halt next to 18.  
  
"I'd appreciate more help than general well-wishing, you know," he commented.  
  
"Shutup," she scolded, standing groggily to her feet. "You're not doing so hot yourself."  
  
"But I'm at least standing for 50 percent of the time."  
  
"No time to argue," she spoke quickly, bursting into a dash. She flipped over Lernam's assault, placing a kick in the back of his head. He fell forward a few steps, wide open for 17's follow up. The two androids coordinated their movements, slamming into him from both sides, sandwiching his torso between them.  
  
"AGHH!!" He screamed in pain, and clotheslined 17 before turning around to do the same to his partner. The alien was obviously beginning to become worn down, breathing heavily amidst the beatings that he was delivering. 17 smiled. There goes the advantage… However, he was obviously stronger than the two of them combined by far, with reinforcements no doubt on their way… They had to get out of there somehow. His thoughts were interrupted by the kick to his side. It propelled him against and through the wall of the institution on the other side. As he bounced to a stop, he landed on his feet once more, running back towards the exit passage he had made. He dove through, and rammed his body against Lernam, who felt like a solid steel barrier. 17 bounced off, and grit his teeth in frustration.  
  
18 and Lernam exchanged in a flurry of punches, with the latter blocking each one dished out as if it was nothing. He parried one of her attacks, and countered with a sudden uppercut to her stomach that lifted her off the ground. Using her body as a projectile, he flung it into the incoming 17. The two collapsed in a heap, connecting painfully. 17 cursed. It had been awhile since he had last experienced pain…  
  
Lernam grumbled, chuckling as he walked towards them. "Do you robots know fear? You've given me quite the rush…"  
  
17 struggled to move, attempting to figure out some way to keep this menace at bay…  
  
"You could have served the Empire well…" He lifted his hand, placing it above the two androids.  
  
Suddenly, 17's earpiece hummed to life within the auditory canal. "Stay down."  
  
What?  
  
Before he could even think, a barrage of extremely powerful, ki-enhanced pulser fire bombarded Lernam's chiseled frame, lifting him from his feet as he screamed in agony. It thrust his body away, slamming into a lookout tower of the institution, bringing the whole structure to fold over itself and upon him.  
  
17 and 18 were quickly on their feet, glancing up at the familiar Capsule Corp. "runner" spacecraft.  
  
"Piccolo? Kale?"  
  
The starboard door opened quickly, with the figure of the Namek standing within. "Hurry," his voice rang in the earpiece. Behind them, the earth began to rumble with Lernam's shriek of fury… "As you can see, we don't have time to waste. Get in. We're going to go save the saiyajins."  
  
"Didn't think I'd ever be agreeing to that," 18 said.  
  
"Aye, aye," 17 commented, as he and the other flew towards the entrance. "Captain." 


	6. Chapter 5

Dragonball: Universe   
  
-------  
  
Ubuu cursed, thrusting his body between that of Abgar and the kids, in order to fill in the gap. The general had begun to press his advantage, knowing that the reincarnation of Buu's attention was divided between himself, and the saiyajin children. He began to make small quips about it, acting as if he was going to strike out at them, only to make a blow to Ubuu instead. The warrior grit his teeth, wishing there was something he could do to keep the distraction at bay.  
  
Another solid fist went plowing into his ribcage, causing him to nearly double over in pain. Abgar laughed loudly, each shrill chuckle sending a chill up Ubuu's spine. He rose from the ground, shouting as he drove a knee up into the Galactic's face. The blue skinned being stumbled for a few meters, and pivoted on his planted foot to leap back at the Earthen hero. They collided in a brutal display of force, smashing elbows and fists alike as they exchanged violent blows.  
  
"Having trouble, Wayward?" Abgar questioned as he drove Ubuu back slowly. The human did not reply, only grit his teeth, setting his feet to spin quickly and thrust a shoulder against his opponent's chest. He followed with a leaping kick to the skull, and then sent a ki blast directly into the alien's face.  
  
Knowing the fault of waiting for the smoke to clear, Ubuu raced forward, clubbing his fists together to swing down against Abgar's back, knocking him down into the hard ground beneath. It shook violently, and the two stumbled from the quake.  
  
Wiping a speck of blood from his face, the General turned to face the leader of the Wayward. "You know you're not going to make it out of here alive?"  
  
Ubuu cocked his head curiously, as if to ask, "Oh?"  
  
"The ground troops are nearly here," Abgar chuckled as he stood to his feet. "And the air support..."  
  
Suddenly, a massive barrage of ki-enhanced pulser turret fire rained down upon the land where the two were standing, shredding the earth itself with its piercing ammo. Ubuu dived away, listening as the General continued to laugh smugly to himself, the torrent of gunfire blazing all around them.  
  
"Get the saiyajin!" he shouted, raising his fist in the air. The sweeping sensation of terror that swept over Ubuu was like nothing he had ever felt before. He whipped around to find several Galactic Elites, racing towards the institution walls, pulser rifles raised to open fire on the saiyajin.  
  
No! he thought, and burst into a sprint towards them. Overhead, two of the G-X9's broke into a tight formation, corkscrewing against the night sky to loop back around towards the institution. Ubuu caught them in the corner of his eye just in time, and dove to the ground to barely escape the assault. As they did before, the fighters tore apart the earth with their turret blaze, each blast ripping deep trenches against the ground. Ubuu was on his feet within a second, still running towards the saiyajins.  
  
"Run!" He shouted, noticing that the Elites were just beyond them. They reached the children first, clubbing both Shawn and James in the head with the butts of their weapons, and taking a hold of John. They reached down to grab the other two children, but were met with the misfortune of Ubuu, who drove his fists against each one. They flipped backwards viciously, colliding against the institution wall. As he turned to find the third soldier, he was met with a blow across his own face that cartwheeled him sideways through the air. Abgar.  
  
In a combination of frustration and anger, Ubuu released a primal shriek, vaulting his body towards that of the Galactic's. He headbutted him explosively, and followed up his attack by placing his hands upon the being's stomach, firing a sudden shot of ki against it. It launched him backwards to smash through the hub of the institution, bringing down its steel and concrete outer walls with him. He had to get to the kids...  
  
When he glanced around, he found Shawn and James in their spots, rubbing their heads groggily as they tried to stand. In the distance, a Galactic freighter was rushing away, staying low to the ground in order to avoid airborn onslaught. It was heading towards the city... Pretty soon, and John would be lost forever... which meant that Ubuu had failed... He clenched his hands tightly, wishing that there was something he could do. But he had to stay with these two until Piccolo arrived... Piccolo...  
  
In a stroke of unbelievable luck, Ubuu looked upwards to find the inisgnia of the famed Capsule Corp. runner vessel, descending towards him. The door slid open quickly, and both 17 and 18 dived out.  
  
"Where is the other?" 17 asked without hesitation. 18 scooped the other two in her arms, handing them towards Piccolo, who was waiting in the doorway. In the distance, Ubuu could hear the sounds of the whining jets of the G-X9's making another pass towards the institution, followed by the sirens of the Galactic foot troops, closing in from the Western City side. The night sky was now ablaze with the color of flame, its orange incandescent glow radiating off of the midnight blue surface. The flickering light seemed to dance off of the eyes of the children, who were confused beyond all belief.  
  
"Where is the other?" 17 repeated, bringing Ubuu to his senses. "We have to hurry, or he'll fall into their hands."  
  
"He escaped in a military freighter," Ubuu answered quickly.  
  
"Model?" 18 inquired, joining them.  
  
Ubuu ran over a brief slew of images in his mind, recalling the various planets and species that the Galactics ran their shipments through. Large green frame, heavy, but lightweight, rear thrusters, "gill" vents, lower turrets, overhead hatch... "Kalinsi," he said, after a moment's pause.  
  
"We're on it," 17 said. "Come on."  
  
"Thanks for the volunteer," 18 replied sarcasitcally. And with that, the two disappeared in a flash, sprinting hurriedly to follow the Kalinsi freighter to Western City.  
  
"Let's get out of here," Piccolo stated, and reached for Ubuu's hand...  
  
"AHHHH!!!" Abgar's cry of revenge struck Ubuu's ears just after his body did. He tackled the dark warrior with a demon's ferocity, his charred skin feeling almost like sandpaper to the hero of Earth. Together, they rolled and bounded across the courtyard, smashing through the remnants of the institution's walls. Ubuu grit his teeth, thrusting the Galactic's body from his own, attempting to make his way towards the runner vessel. As his eyes connected with Piccolo's, both fighters felt a sudden sensation...  
  
The G-X9's. The two craft came roaring into the courtyard, with targets locked onto the ship...  
  
"Kale! Go!" Piccolo shouted, leaping from the metallic flier to go soaring into the sky, powering up as he did so. Another aircraft made its way into the mix now, bombarding both Piccolo and Kale in the ship with a rain of pulser fire. The Namek flipped back, narrowly dodging the streams of power, spinning in the air to avoid having a limb torn off. With his attention distracted, Ubuu suddenly felt Abgar ram him once again from behind, throwing him several meters before he slid to a halt. Clenching his fists, Ubuu sighed.  
  
This was amounting to be harder than he first perceived.  
  
-------  
  
"Kalinsi, 12 o'clock," 18 informed 17, as the two raced across the streets that lead into the city. The freighter was just ahead, roaring through Western City so rapidly that the buildings shook violently in its wake. 17 felt his legs blurring in motion underneath him, a testimony to the sheer speed held in their power. Side by side, both him and his counterpart darted in and around moving vehicles, still on foot, trying hard to catch up with the ship that carried one of the saiyajin children. The buildings flew past them in a streak of color and rushing wind, leaving their vision as soon as it entered, becoming yet another part of the past as they launched past each one in turn.  
  
"What's the firing time on the turrets?" 17 asked the other. She had definitely been brushing up on her know-how of the Galactic military, doing what she could stay on top of their technology. He had at first found it rather silly, until it had saved their hides on more than one occasion. Now, he knew to just let her do what she does best.  
  
"Two hundred rounds a second, with a two-tenths of a second recharge between clips," she answered.  
  
"Two-tenths, huh?"  
  
She nodded. "It'll be enough time to lash back."  
  
"Lovely," 17 commented. "You know, I never had you figured for much of a figurehead, what with you being obsessed with what you were going to wear day in and day out."  
  
"Call it a change of heart," she replied dryly. Before he had a chance to make a comeback, the whining of two jets registered in his mind.  
  
"Slashers," he noted, looking behind them. "Look alive." The ships were named after their blade-like appearance, a sharp nose in the front, sleeking back to the rear-mounted thrusts, with the Galactic insignia ornating the top. The firing chambers were located on each side panel, forming an actual "X" pattern as they turned to fire, which could effectively decimate its targets, thus giving it its well-deserved nickname.  
  
The gliders opened fire, their streams of energy criss-crossing the pavement of the streets of Western City, racing up the lanes of traffic. Cars and buildings alike were torn in two, sometimes more pieces. 17 and 18 split as a stream of gunfire darted between them, the pulser rounds igniting powerful eruptions as it cracked the concrete. 17 kept his eyes focused ahead, using the window panes surrounding him as his guide for what was going on behind him. He and 18 stayed in line with one another, running up either side of the street as the Slashers continued to do their work on the populace. A volley of pulser fire crossed just next to 17, who quickly leaped upwards and to his left, running sideways along a highrise building as the turrets followed him in his upward arch.  
  
Setting his teeth, he sprinted across the windows and concrete alike, his entire body horizontal to the street below, as the pulser fire rammed its way into the foundation of the building itself. He leaped from the wall, just as the upperhalf of the skyscraper came tumbling down behind him. Ahead, the Kalinsi freighter's weight shifted to its port side, its starboard lifting slightly in the air...  
  
"It's turning left," 18's voice rang in his earpiece.  
  
"Thanks for the news flash." They joined up in the center of the road once more, sliding together to angle their bodies for the sudden shift in direction. The two androids continued to move in sync with one another, and turned left down a crowded thoroughfare, watching as the ship stayed low to the ground. Behind them, one of the Slasher pilots had obviously not been paying attention, and slammed directly into a small corner shop, exploding upon contact, instantly incinerating the structure. The other one narrowly missed a similar fate, keeping its belly flush with the vertical rise of a concrete pillar, racing around it to merge back onto its course behind both 17 and 18.  
  
"It would help to get rid of this one," 18 announced, turning to fire blind blasts of ki towards it. It weaved in and out of them, the blasts connecting behind it to explode brilliantly behind it. Civilian craft were roaring noisily past them, doing whatever they could to escape the mayhem.  
  
"It looks like we have other things to worry about," 17 grabbed onto her shoulder then, leaping to the side to avoid a sudden burst of fire from the Kalinsi. He cursed. Now they were being bombarded from both sides...  
  
"Any plans?" he asked, as the two split once more to draw the individual attentions of each turret.  
  
"Not at the moment," 18 replied, dodging a wave of energy that destroyed a park to her right.  
  
"Good," 17 said. "Kami knows we would never want this to be easy." 


	7. Chapter 6

"If you're not having fun, it's because you're not wearing any kind of safety belt!" Kale shouted over the comm, hitting the controls hard on the runner craft, throwing it into a tight loop that would make even the hardest pilots cringe. But then again, that's what he was.  
  
"Where are they!?" One of the saiyajin children shouted, throwing his head into the cockpit.  
  
"How should I know?" Kale was never too fond of children, and this definitely was not the time for them to be bugging him. One of the G-X9's whizzed by the view port, beckoning him to follow. He mashed the controls starboard.  
  
"Isn't this your ship?!" The saiyajin fell backwards into the passenger section, tumbling over himself.  
  
"Fat chance. Mine's in the shop. This thing handles like moglark feces." He took a deep breath as he stayed close on the G-X9's corkscrew maneuver. "And it smells just as bad, too."  
  
He gunned the pulser turrets then, narrowly missing his target as it swooped to the left, looping in a high arc skyward. Kale grit his teeth, pulling the ship up to match the other's vector, attempting to cut it off at its own game. It raced over head, firing several bursts of gunfire his way, each one passing in a line on the portside. He veered right, and angled the nose of the runner downward in order to further speed his own advance. They passed low to the ground, and then shot back up to follow the Galactic fighter. In his view port, he could make out the figure of Piccolo, having his own time with one of the agile ships. "Crazy Namek," he grunted. In the past, he didn't much care for aliens, either. However, anything was better than a Galactic…  
  
"I found them!" The other saiyajin child shouted.  
  
"Congratulations, kid, you have motor skills," he commented dryly. "Now hold on and shut your mouths."  
  
He threw the runner into a gut-wrenching turn, following closely on the haunches of the G-X9. It raced low to the ground, attempting to blind his vision by kicking up the dust that layered the area. Kale grinned. Galactic pilots never gave enough credit to humans… He unleashed a tempest of gunfire through the haze, knowing that he was going to hit absolutely nothing. In a sudden change of direction, he threw the ship into a tight roll, watching as his opponent came roaring through the dust with turrets rotating. At that point, Kale shifted his whole body with the ship, punching it into a nearly impossible one-eighty, bringing the nose of the runner to bear down rapidly on the hull of the Galactic jet…  
  
He only wished he could hear the alien scream. In a quick pull of the trigger, the G-X9 was no more.  
  
"Yeah!" Kale gave a war cry that music to his ears. It had definitely been too long…  
  
"What happened?" One of the kids asked from another portion of the ship.  
  
"Never mind," he answered, reaching for the comm. "How are you holding up, Piccolo?"  
  
-------  
  
"Absolutely fabulous," Piccolo muttered, spreading his arms and twirling away from the blaze of pulser ammo that was threatening to tear his body apart. "You?"  
  
"Just took down one of the bastards," Kale's reply came through the static in his earpiece. "And from the looks of it, it might be one of many."  
  
"I hear you," the Namekian responded, weaving in and out of stray blasts of gunfire. "This needs to end, and soon."  
  
"I sure hope it does, these kids are getting on my last nerve."  
  
Piccolo couldn't help but chuckle, even amidst the battle going on around him. He whipped around to face the pursuing jet, angling his body sideways as he launched out of its line of fire. "Makekansappo!" The spiraled beam of ki ripped through the side of ship, effectively tearing it apart into two separate halves that exploded immediately.  
  
"I wouldn't get worked up too soon, Kale," Piccolo breathed. "Those kids could incinerate you, if they wanted."  
  
"I'm willing to take that chance if I can give them just one good slap in the head to keep 'em quiet," the pilot laughed.  
  
"By all means, do what you have to," Piccolo said. "But right now, find the androids. Ubuu and I are on the way."  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
Now where was-  
  
"Ubuu!" Piccolo shouted, spotting the progeny of Goku. The figure of Ubuu was engaged in a tight struggle with the General Abgar, the two wrestling in a strong grapple. The wayward must have heard Piccolo's cry, for he suddenly pulled the Galactic's arms forward, using his own momentum to somersault him away.  
  
"Ka Me Ha Me HAAA!!" The blue blast of ki erupted from Ubuu's hands, its spectacular color reflecting from the surface of the concrete, flying across the night sky. It slammed into the bulky body of the alien, launching him into the distance. Piccolo smiled. Ubuu had definitely come a long way in the time that he had spent on Earth. Goku's teaching had proved quite impressive, as the young boy had turned rather instantly into a grown man. While his fighting prowess was not quite matching that of the Namek's, he was a great deal stronger, and the instinct would eventually take over with time.  
  
"Piccolo," Ubuu called, throwing the being's thoughts off track. "How are the androids?"  
  
"I don't know, but we're about to go find out," Piccolo answered. From the compound, he could feel a ki rising dramatically. Probably the one that Kale hit with the runner's turrets…  
  
"And we'd better hurry."  
  
-------  
  
"Oh, joy," 17 commented, observing the two approaching Slashers that whipped past them above. "It looks like we have more friends joining us."  
  
"The more, the merrier," 18 replied.  
  
"Let's end this, shall we?"  
  
"Aww, but it was just getting fun."  
  
Another slew of energy bolts raced between them, breaking through the concrete. It collapsed afterward, revealing the subway system below. Behind them, the Slasher dipped low, swooping into the hole left by the devastation…  
  
"You know, I was just about to say the same thing…" 17 said.  
  
Suddenly, various rounds of gunfire began to rip through the surface of the road, launching upwards past the two androids. It spanned from one side of the pavement to the other, like a long claw of energy, erupting from the ground. 17 leaped away, never breaking in his stride as they followed the Kalinsi. Its own guns were blazing now, joining in with its partner, as the two tried to catch the androids off guard.  
  
"How does it know where we are from down there?" 17 asked.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, brother," 18 scolded. "You haven't been keeping up to date, have you?"  
  
He groaned. She knew he hated it when she called him that. Especially when two Galactic pulser rifles were calling their names…  
  
She chuckled at her brief victory. "Slashers are equipped with all kinds of sensors… including pressure. It can sense our weight on the street."  
  
"Then why don't we get off of the street?" 17 grunted.  
  
"Way ahead of you," she said slyly. "Who do you think it's been shooting at?" She let out another one of her little laughs.  
  
"Point," he muttered under his breath. He leaped to run vertically across the buildings, removing his body from the concrete below. The Kalinsi was getting closer by the second…  
  
"That makes it what, for today? Two to one?"  
  
"We'll discuss this later," he offered. "Care to disable the Slasher for us?"  
  
"With pleasure."  
  
At that, she thrust her body away from the buildings on the other side, flying towards the center of the street. She let her feet hit the concrete for only a second, long enough for the Slasher's sensors to pick it up… A blast of energy emerged from the road, and 18 took her window of opportunity. Lifting herself from the ground, she threw a small ki blast before her, diving towards the small hole it made…  
  
For a moment, she was gone, leaving 17 alone to watch in wonder. She was clever, he had to give her that. Without warning, the concrete suddenly broke into several large chunks of gray rock, propelling outwards into the air as the Slasher came roaring up into view. 18 was sitting on its nose, with her hands outstretched…  
  
The explosion was swift and violent, and the clouds of smoke and debris alike were sent flipping through the air. Large pieces of twisted metal landed smoking all around 17, who made his curve back to the city street, to join 18. She came hurling forward from the haze.  
  
"Impressive," 17 complimented her.  
  
"Three to one?"  
  
"Sure, why not?"  
  
The sound of the next wave of Slashers met their ears just then, prompting them to turn around. They were approaching, and fast, from the sky a distance down the crowded thoroughfare. 17 smiled. This kept getting more and more bizarre.  
  
"Now what?" He inquired.  
  
"Get to the kid, I'll handle these," 18 answered. She spread her arms and turned, letting the wind resistance help her trajectory the other way. 17 watched as his counterpart sprinted towards the knife-like transports, and made an abrupt turn down a narrow alley. The Slashers hastily followed, leaving only 17 and the Kalinsi.  
  
He turned to face the freighter once more, kicking up his focus another notch. With speed that surprised even him, he darted forward, closing the gap between himself and the metallic frame. The turrets screamed to life again, attempting to cast him away from the ship. With calculated ease, the robot vaulted himself to the side, bounding off of a parked civilian craft to arc himself over the stream of gunfire. He landed alongside the Kalinsi, still weaving in and out of the river of energy. Until it stopped. There was his window…  
  
17 jumped atop the freighter, diving to grab a hold of the pulser turret. In a quick motion, he ripped the gun straight from the seams of the frame, throwing it aside as he dug his hands into the armor. Like a can of tinned food, he peeled the Galactic freighter open from end to end, yanking the top off and tossing it away hurriedly. Inside, three aliens scurried for their weapons, as the one in the pilot's seat screamed orders to them. One of them was heading towards the saiyajin boy…  
  
17 made short work of him, disintegrating him instantly with a blast of ki. The other two looked at one another, sliding to a halt in their attempts to lash back.  
  
"Which one of you wants to be next?"  
  
After a brief hesitation, the one on the left lunged towards him, only to receive a sharp blow to the stomach by the android. He used the Galactic's body as a projectile, throwing it painfully against the other, who was instantly knocked out.  
  
"Come, on kid," 17 called as he took a hold of the unconscious saiyajin. Together, they burst upward from the ship, as the android extended his hand towards it. It erupted in a brilliant explosion, the heat following right on the edge of their feet as they raced away.  
  
"Kale?" 17 switched on his earpiece. "I have him." 


	8. Chapter 7

Dragonball: Universe   
  
-------  
  
The runner set down in the small clearing with relative ease, its inhabitants breathing a collective sigh of relief in correlation with the silencing jets. The door slid open with a hiss of air, and the few began to climb out, stretching sore muscles. Ubuu sighed, knowing that it was time for them to part ways.  
  
"I know," Piccolo read his mind. "So short, with no time to catch up." He pat the younger warrior on the back then, walking towards a patch of slightly miscolored grass. The untrained eye would have never caught it, with the moon's glow bouncing radiantly from its surface. Piccolo crouched down, grasping a hold of the ground, and thrust the flap of material aside, revealing a metallic hiding place complete with spacecraft inside.  
  
"Nice hole," 18 cooed from her place next to 17. They walked side by side from the runner. Ubuu smiled, nodding towards them. The androids had proved to be a much-needed asset to the cause of the Wayward, their unreadable power allowing for more opportunities than they had ever anticipated. It was hard to be covert and strong at the same time, but these two had it down cold.  
  
"Thank you," Piccolo said, sporting a grin. "For everything. We couldn't have done this without you."  
  
Not surprisingly, they feigned disinterest, each one shrugging in turn. Lately, Ubuu had finally learned to read through their subtle idiosyncrasies, catching small flickers of what they were really feeling through the monotonous facade they transmitted. Deep down, they appreciated being appreciated. They were more human than either of them knew.  
  
Kale sauntered out of the Capsule Corp ship just behind them, raising his arms in a long, drawn out yawn. "Let's go!" he clapped his hands together.  
  
Ubuu smirked. "Anxious?"  
  
"The farther away from these Galactics we are, the better." He called over his shoulder as he waltzed towards the covered area where Piccolo was waiting.  
  
"Good point."  
  
"Oh, I love you," Kale overanimated his statement dryly as he gazed down at the spacecraft.  
  
"Don't mention it," the Namek retorted.  
  
"I was talking to the ship."  
  
Behind Ubuu, the kids slowly made their way to the forefront of the group, rather timid amidst their newfound companions. He didn't blame them. It was a rather difficult thing to be uprooted from everything you knew, everything you held comfort in, and thrust into a new position in life. He had experienced the same thing upon the death of Goku and the others. All of a sudden, he was in charge, he was the leader of the resistance, and everything was immediately upon his shoulders. A quick tinge of sympathy rose in his being, as he watched their faces wander around in amazement. Their role would not truly hit them until later. And when it did, they would find their power.  
  
He reached for Gokan's shoulder. "When I next see you guys, you had better be able to beat me into the dirt."  
  
"You're not coming with us?" Vegeta asked, a look of strength, yet a quiet fear written in his eyes. Just like his grandfather.  
  
"I have to stay here," he informed them. "Piccolo is a trusted friend, and mentor to me. He trained your father, Gokan."  
  
"He did?" The boy's face brightened as he glanced up. Ubuu nodded in affirmation.  
  
"Boxers..." Boxers suddenly spoke up thoughtfully. "What were my parents thinking? I mean, honestly... Boxers?"  
  
"It'll take some getting used to, I know," Ubuu laughed. "But that is who you are. Don't ever forget that."  
  
"Are we ready?" Piccolo asked as he stepped into the conversation.  
  
"I'm up for anything," Vegeta countered. Ubuu and Piccolo's eyes met then, finding a small victory in the personalities of the saiyajins. All of their waiting was going to finally pay off, and their willingness was a testament to that.  
  
"Good," the Namek confirmed.  
  
"Are you going to get off the planet alright?" 18 asked.  
  
"Or do you need us to play distracter?" 17 joined in.  
  
"We're good to go," Kale answered as the hidden craft's door slid open. "Bought some old Galactic serials from a group of gun-runners. Old, but not out of date. This is the ship we came in on, so it'll clear."  
  
"Where are you heading right now?" Ubuu questioned Piccolo.  
  
"We'll meet up with the rest of the Waywards on Thorbos, after a brief stop in Sarn."  
  
Ubuu met his comment with an odd stare. "Sarn? What on earth for?"  
  
"I have some old business to take care of."  
  
"Ah. Say no more." Ubuu understood. "You guys had better get going, then. It won't be too long before security is tight as a clamp around here. It'll take a few more hours before the planetary customs receive notice about tonight's 'incident'."  
  
"You're right," Piccolo nodded. "Farewell, Ubuu. Keep the androids out of trouble."  
  
"Fat chance," 17 snorted.  
  
Ubuu exchanged a handshake with the old fighter, watching as he turned to join the kids and Kale. "Good luck!" He called after them.  
  
"Welcome aboard the Dissenter," Kale's voice echoed within the craft as the metallic door slid shut abruptly. Within a few minutes, the jets had been fired up, the Dissenter took off, and began its departure from Earth. Watching its drive trails glow in the distance, Ubuu released a whimper of helplessness. He wanted more than anything to keep his watch over the saiyajin, to see them grow in maturity and stature, to witness them develop skills that would surpass his greatest expectations... That was part of being the leader of the Earth-seated resistance: missing out on what the rest of the universe was doing. Only time would tell. He sighed, turning back to face the two unusually hushed androids.  
  
"Come on," he breathed after a moment's pause. "Let's get back home."  
  
With uncharacteristic silence, the three took off in flight through the mountainous terrain beyond.  
  
-------  
  
J'erah stormed his way onto the Western City compound smugly, looking around as if to say "I told you so". He made his way slowly through the courtyard, scanning the outlying area carefully, noticing the small acts of carnage delivered upon the structure here and there. So the Wayward had shown up, indeed. Interesting. Across the way, his eyes came to rest upon General Lernam, who was directing soldiers angrily that were assisting in clean-up and recovery.  
  
"Taking out your frustrations on the grunts, I see?" J'erah noted as he came to a stop behind the proud General. The elder paused in midsentence, turning to face his comrade with a not-so-welcoming gaze. J'erah gave the lesser soldiers a look that told them all they needed to know. They immediately scattered, setting about their various tasks.  
  
"J'erah," Lernam grunted. "What a welcome surprise."  
  
"Is it?" J'erah questioned, turning his cold yellow eyes to face the destroyed compound. "Tell me... To whom do we owe this travesty?"  
  
"The Wayward showed up-"  
  
"I don't think the blame necessarily falls on them," J'erah calmly interrupted. "We are superior. If something did not work, it is because one of us failed, not because we were hindered. There is always a way to overcome, General... You should know this more than anyone."  
  
"I am not one to pass the blame," Lernam hissed. "You lost the children before we did, if you want to be technical about it."  
  
J'erah felt the scar on the right side of his face twitch. He did have a point. Suddenly, a familiar ki registered... J'erah straightened his pose, smiling as he sensed Abgar's presence. "Who do we have here?"  
  
"I don't want to hear it!" Abgar growled viciously as he walked towards them.  
  
"Hear what?" the scarred figher asked. "The message from the Palace?"  
  
"Listen, J'erah-"  
  
The mighty Galactic promptly interrupted Abgar with a powerful strike to the nose, knocking him backwards as blood spewed from the gaping wound that appeared.  
  
"No, you listen," he hissed, kneeling down in to Abgar's bloody face as he rolled with pain. "That was for doubting my ability in the first place. Don't ever let it happen again." The portly Counselman nodded deftly, still cursing as he held his broken nose.  
  
J'erah paid him no heed, standing up to join the General once more.  
  
"Finished?" the elder asked.  
  
"Quite. So tell me firsthand what happened here."  
  
"It's probably no different from what you've already heard," Lernam commented distantly, his frustration at his own failure apparent in his voice. "They were more organized than I could have ever imagined, and powerful to boot."  
  
"Then let us not underestimate them the next time," J'erah answered thoughtfully.  
  
"If there is a next time... They have the saiyajin children, and they are most likely off the planet by now, laughing at our folly the entire way."  
  
"Trust me," J'erah grew serious. "There will be a next time."  
  
"How can you be so certain?"  
  
"We're going to ensure that it happens," he answered grimly. "And we're going to start by drawing out the resistance." 


	9. Chapter 8

"Closing in on Sarn," Kale spoke into the comm. He leaned back in the pilot's chair, grinning wickedly. Though it had cost him a fortune to tailor this thing to fit his body exactly, it was worth every penny. At the moment, however, he was wishing he had put some kind of noise barrier between the cabin and cockpit... Those kids just didn't stop asking questions.  
  
"How much longer?" Piccolo asked, joining him in the seat to his right.  
  
"Just a few more minutes until we close in on the atmosphere."  
  
"Good."  
  
Thus far, their flight had been rather uneventful, several hours suspended in gate transport, a mode of flight that moved the ship at the speed of light across a given vector. They had just come out of gating when the computer notified Kale that Sarn was only moments away.  
  
"What do you have to do here, anyway?"  
  
"Visiting an old friend," Piccolo muttered thoughtfully.  
  
"Does this 'friend' expect a visit from you?" Kale questioned.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Lovely," he answered, taking a hold of the controls. "Well, you'll be seeing them momentarily." With that, they began their descent onto Sarn's sparsely populated countryside overgrowth.  
  
-------  
  
"Gokan, Vegeta, Boxers... Wait here," Piccolo instructed upon touchdown. "Kale, come with me."  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
The kids nodded in obedience, looking rather bored despite these new circumstances. "It'll only be a minute, I promise," Piccolo encouraged them. He nodded towards Kale, and the two stepped foot from the Dissenter into Sarn's waist high yellow grass, rippling with a steady wind that seemed to constantly grace it. The Namek squinted under the hot afternoon sun, making his way towards the quaint hut that was before them. From past experiences with this particular acquaintance, he expected a not-so-quaint basement that accompanied the rustic picture, complete with the latest smuggled materials, and a hangar somewhere nearby. With this individual, nothing was as it seemed.  
  
"I've seen that mark before," Kale guestured at a carving engraved almost unnoticably into a tall tree that was only a few feet away. "Why didn't you tell me this is where we were going?"  
  
"I wanted it to be a surprise."  
  
"Oh, and you know how I just adore those..."  
  
Piccolo grinned as they came to the thick wooden door. Here goes nothing. He raised his green hand, knocking loudly three times consecutively. From inside, he heard a quiet stirring...  
  
"How many times have I told you kids-" the door flung open quickly, the insider being met with obvious shock to his visitors. "Aw, hell."  
  
"Hi, Goten," Piccolo flashed a smile. "Long time no see."  
  
"Nice little set up you have here," Kale poked his head inside, stepping past the surprised saiyajin as he looked around. "Where's the hangar and the storeroom?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Goten replied quickly.  
  
Kale said nothing, only gave him a look as if to ask "Oh?"  
  
Goten sighed. "There's a hidden compartment in the kitchen area."  
  
"Mind if I take a look?"  
  
"By all means, make yourself at home," Goten added sarcastically.  
  
Kale grinned. "Don't mind if I do." He left them alone, exiting quickly towards the kitchen.  
  
"So are the rumors true?" Goten asked without haste, disgust in his voice.  
  
"That depends," Piccolo answered. He made his way towards a small wodden shelf, observing the pictures that decorated it. "I don't associate with the vagrant community."  
  
"Word on the market is that you and freelancer here have gone and attempted the impossible."  
  
"That's what they're saying?" Piccolo continued to meander across the various photographs, small reminders of the past life that he had once lived. Things were so much easier back then. He looked towards Goten, who nodded in response to his question. "Then, yes, the rumors are true."  
  
Goten shook his head then, staring out the window towards Kale's ship. "You're a fool, you know that?"  
  
"I"m the fool?" Piccolo growled. "My apologies if I'm trying to avenge the deaths of your father, your brother, and your best friend."  
  
"I've at least come to terms with the fact that it can't be done," Goten spat. "And now what, you risk their children?"  
  
"Whether you like it or not, you're going to be involved in this."  
  
Goten didn't like it. "And what makes you so sure?"  
  
"For starters, we need you," Piccolo said, growing more serious. "In order to mobilize against a race like the Galactics, we need connections, which is something you have plenty of."  
  
The saiyajin eyed him curiously, seeming to ponder what Piccolo was getting at. "Continue."  
  
"You know the vagrant community, and if we're going to even stand a small chance against the armed forces, we need their help as well. You're a smuggler, Goten, and a good one at that. You can get us anything and everything we need at a moment's notice."  
  
"I'm trying to settle down," Goten said dryly.  
  
"That's what I've heard, and I'm sorry to do this to you," Piccolo continued. "And your daughter."  
  
"Leave her out of this," the son of Goku replied without hesitation. "She's not going anywhere with you."  
  
"You seem to think that you stand a chance against the Galactic army alone," Piccolo mused smugly.  
  
Goten stopped, raising his eyebrows fractionally. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Think about it," the Namek stated. "There is going to be a massive purge all over the sectors for anyone who knows about, or is a saiyajin." That one got Goten's attention. Piccolo chose to press his verbal advantage. If Goten didn't come with them...  
  
"And they'll start with the fringe. The smuggling community. Anyone that has known you are saiyajin will spill their guts for the highest price, and they'll come looking for you anyway. If you can give them notice in time, they can join us before the Galactics get to them. Either way, you're about to get involved."  
  
Goten whispered a quiet curse, knowing full well that Piccolo was in the right on this one. Suddenly, a kind of sadness swept over his face that the Namek had not seen before on this particular individual. It's as if he finally realized what he was missing out on... "Are they with you? The kids, I mean." Piccolo nodded. "What are they like? Is there hope?"  
  
"Why don't you come meet them, and see for yourself?"  
  
"Is something wrong, dad?" A young girl's voice asked from the hall. Piccolo observed as the young teenager walked into the room. He recognized Pana, though it had been quite awhile since he had last seen her. How time flies...  
  
"Remember how I told you we might have to leave some day?" Goten asked her over his shoulder. She nodded in understanding, her face a look of tranquility and calm despite the fact that she knew what was happening.  
  
"I'll go get my things."  
  
"You told her about this?" Piccolo asked in shock. It wasn't that he minded, he just expected Goten to never even mention it to his daughter. After her mother had run off the way she did, who would blame him?  
  
"I explained that something like this might come," Goten conceded. "I even taught her a few things... she can go super-saiyajin."  
  
Piccolo furrowed his brow. "Really?" Goten nodded. "Maybe you can learn with the kids while I train them."  
  
"We'll discuss that later... Right now, I'd be more comfortable running my connections through with the smugglers."  
  
"Understandable." Piccolo cocked his head towards the kitchen "Kale!"  
  
"You dog," Kale elbowed Goten as he stepped back into the room. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff he's hiding down there."  
  
"He'll tell us all about it on the way to Thorbos, I'm sure," Piccolo assured Kale.  
  
"So you're in?"  
  
Before Goten could reply, Piccolo cut in. "Yeah, he's in."  
  
"Hallelujah," Kale smiled. "Finally, another person in the freelancing business to talk to." He began to make his way for the door. Pana came into the room then, sporting a small pouch with various items bulging from it.  
  
"Ready?" Piccolo looked to Goten.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be..."  
  
"Good. Why don't you come and meet your relatives?" 


	10. Chapter 9

Dragonball: Universe   
  
-------   
  
Gokan stepped into the dimly lit hallway, letting the sound of his shoes clamor noisily on the stone floor. What was this place? It seemed all too familiar, like it was a part of him that had long been forgotten. In the darkness ahead, he could make out a shape, huddled low to the ground. The young saiyajin took yet another step forward...  
  
"Can you hear me, little one?"  
  
The whisper rushed past his ear like a harsh wind. It was there and gone in an instant. He lifted his gaze, whipping his vision around to see where the noise had originated from. Perhaps he had imagined it...  
  
"Yes, you can..."  
  
It was closer this time, like it was coming from right next to him... Gokan turned his head to the side to find nothing, only darkness. The sounds of his footstep continued to echo, followed by a choking silence. He held his breath, feeling that any sound he made would disturb the void that seemed to be growing more hostile. Suddenly, a hissed noise caught him off guard, and he nearly fell over from the surprise. What had caused that? The teen craned his neck, opening his senses...  
  
Something was snickering...  
  
"I know something that you don't..."  
  
Gokan swallowed hard, trying to work his vocal chords into making some kind of intelligible product. "Is that so?" He didn't sound nearly as confident as he felt. In fact, he sounded much worse.  
  
Silence... That haunting, eerie silence. Perhaps it had finally left him...  
  
Without warning, a powerful impact connected with his entire body, and he felt like he was free falling, as if the void of darkness around him was thrusting itself in and through his entire being. Wind was whipping past his eardrums, deafening in its speed. The only thing that reminded him of where he was had to have been that his feet were still planted on the stone floor. His arms began to flail about wildly, when a sudden sensation swept over him... A hand. A hand was palming his head... He tried to open his eyes, but could not. The darkness wouldn't allow it.  
  
"Let me show you..."  
  
And with that, a flood of visions began to pour into him... A bright light pierced the dark...  
  
Gokan sat up abruptly, his entire body racked with sweat. Where was he? Fumbling around in the darkness, he fell off what he thought to be a bed. A small bed... Trying to catch his breath, the young saiyajin looked around in a panic, searching for any sign of familiarity. Anything to help him regain his sense of reality...  
  
The son of Gohan stood up slowly, and slammed his head into a hard metallic object. What the... A second glance amidst the pain told him that he had just hit the bottom of a bunk. Vegeta was sleeping there... He turned and looked across the room, seeing Boxers snoozing quietly on the other side. They were in Kale's ship.  
  
The events of the past day all came to him then, reminding him of where they had been and what they had come through. The Galactics. Ubuu. Piccolo. And then, Goten. He had been so excited to find out that he had living relatives in his uncle, and his daughter Pana. While Goten had seemed a little hesitant at first, he eventually warmed into their meeting, filling him in on events of the past, and telling them all stories of the life of a smuggler. Pana had sat there and listened, and talked to Gokan for a good portion of the night, apparently just as glad as he that she had another relative to bond with. After awhile, they had grown tired, and Piccolo directed them to this small quarter so that they could rest...  
  
Gokan sighed, slumping down to the floor, the panic having subsided. The dreams were becoming more vivid, progressing a little further each time. The boy reached into his pocket, retrieving a piece of paper that had scribbled sketches on it. Now, he had another piece to the puzzle... He stood, found some sort of odd writing utensil on a plastic desk, and sat down to fill in more of the gaps. The dream always ended with this picture. Each time, he was able to take in a little more... Soon, he would have it. And what he would do with that information...  
  
Well, he would cross that bridge when he got to it.  
  
-------  
  
The burning destruction that had been left in the wake of the Wayward was finally dying down, leaving only glowing embers of once raging fires as a remnant of their triumph. The orange-red light that had once burned brightly was now just a dull roar, with billowing smoke climbing into the night sky. It had been an interesting night, indeed.  
  
J'erah turned from the viewport, walking around his dark office slowly. As he paced, he took the time to observe the many things that adorned his walls. Pictures, awards, medals, and... He paused at the last object. One of the computer chips to the Centurions. They had discontinued the development of these killing machines some years back, simply because they became a nuisance, and they were unnecessary. Many were also known to go haywire at some points in time, and had nearly killed many Galactic officials in the process. As of now, some of their scientists were developing a more advanced prototype, something that was supposedly going to "astound and amaze" the public. The people of Earth were under the guise that these maniacal robots were there to protect them from invaders, but there was nothing more to it than simple population control, when one of the grunts didn't feel like doing it themselves. All in all, it was probably going to be scrapped, anyhow. Poor Dr. Derhat. J'erah almost felt sorry for the young genius.  
  
A sudden beep from the entryway alerted him to the task at hand. "Lights," he commanded, bringing the overhead lamps into life. "Open."  
  
The door slid open with a brief hiss, and parted to reveal Leara, standing there in all of her seductive beauty. J'erah could not help but give her a good lookover. Perhaps one day, they would have to have some after-hour visits... But right now, he was not about to let pleasure cloud his sense of business and duty. He sensed that she was the same.  
  
"You rang?" She walked into the room confidently, gazing at the walls in a brief but subtle display of respect. "Hmmm... I've never been in your office before."  
  
"Not many have," he replied, moving back towards the viewport. "You should feel honored."  
  
"Oh, I do," she cooed, her voice heavy with masked intent. That was one of the reasons he felt he could trust her. She knew how to cover herself.  
  
"You're probably wondering why I've asked you here."  
  
"Not really," she answered, bringing her eyes to meet his. "It's the saiyajin, isn't it?"  
  
She was good. "Yes," he offered. "For obvious reasons, I have absolutely no trust in Abgar, and I feel that there's no way I could disclose the rest of this to the Counsel."  
  
"Oh? And why wouldn't you think you could trust a group of bumbling idiots?"  
  
"I need your help," he continued, smirking. "Can you do that for me?"  
  
"It depends."  
  
"On?"  
  
"Payment," she responded quickly. "I don't work for free."  
  
"That's all taken care of," J'erah nodded carefully. "Though I would have hoped that you would have done so out of service to the Galactic Empire."  
  
"Ha," she breathed sarcastically. "You and I both know that that's just a dream that we used to have. The Counsel is a joke, as is this station on Earth."  
  
"Yes," he nodded in understanding. "Things aren't quite the same, are they?"  
  
"Well, Tyren grows old," she sighed. "And you know how much Abgar is going to scramble for his throne as soon as he keels over."  
  
"The Counsel wouldn't allow that..."  
  
"Wouldn't they? He has a way with words that allows him to wrap those that he sees fit to serve him around his finger. Hell, they practically eat out of his hand."  
  
"Point," J'erah conceded. "What are you getting at?"  
  
"The only logical replacement would be yourself," Leara stated slyly.  
  
"Hmmm..." the warrior paused. He had never thought of this before. Well, maybe a little, but never as more than a passing fancy that he could entertain. The ruler of the universe... The holder of all power... No. He would get to that later. Right now, they had other matters to get to.  
  
"Sounds good, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes, I'll have to admit," J'erah acknowledged her proposal. "But we'll discuss that later..."  
  
"Of course," she took a seat in the plush chair before his desk, crossing her legs. "What is it that you want me to do for you?"  
  
He had a few ideas... "How many of your contacts did you keep from your days in the fringe?"  
  
"Plenty. I took care of those that would cause me a problem in the future."  
  
"So you're saying that there are some who owe you favors?"  
  
"Certainly." She cocked an eyebrow towards him. "What are you getting at?"  
  
"I want you to enlist help in finding the saiyajins," he said, turning his back towards her. "And bring them to me."  
  
"Done. And what of the others?"  
  
He faced her again. "Have them killed. Bounty hunters, assassins, whatever you need." He handed her a datacard. "This is the number to a private account to dip into. It is separated into two distinct sections. The larger of the two is for your payment, and the other is for other purposes, whether it be hired help or equipment. Keep this subtle. Encountering some of their protectors in all out combat would be foolish."  
  
"I like the way you work." She took the datacard, turned it over in her hand. "I'll start with some of the smugglers. Rumor has it that a surviving saiyajin used to run weapons for one of my contacts."  
  
"A surviving saiyajin?" J'erah narrowed his gaze. Why hadn't he heard of this before?  
  
"Left Earth before the commotion, decided not to come back." She shrugged. Leara stood, and began to make her way for the metallic door. "I don't know who it was, but we could most certainly find out in no time at all. See what he knows."  
  
"Good," the warrior answered. So they had an angle now, and a trap.  
  
"And what about me? Am I to stay here?" She turned to face him as the door slid open.  
  
He nodded. "I have another plan for the Wayward. And you're going to help me catch them."  
  
She cocked an eyebrow yet again. "Oh? Is this included in my fee?"  
  
"No," he answered. "You're doing this out of service to the Empire."  
  
With that, the door slid shut, leaving him alone to ponder these new developments. 


	11. Chapter 10

"You sure this is the place?" Kale asked into his com, surveying the crowd of assorted aliens. In the middle of the market square of Yardstae, an overpopulated hub for the working class, he leaned against an old metallic structure, pulling his jacket up around his neck as he waited for any kind of signal. It was mind-numbingly cold here.

And that was an understatement.

"This is always the place that Ner runs his operation from," Goten's reply came in a hiss of jumbled static. Kale squinted, finding the saiyajin smuggler across the market, mixing in quite well with a group of elders casting lots for pieces of stolen clothing. One of them shouted in victory, and took off in a sprint through the center of the arena. Like the rest of the figures, he became lost in a see of multiculturalism, merging with the masses that were all flowing in seemingly random synchronization.

As they had approached the planet, Goten suddenly had a wild hunch that he wanted to play, in order to get a head start before the Galactics did on siding with the underworld. The pilot had heard of the runner Ner beforehand, being mixed in with the freelancers himself. His reach spread far and wide, even to the corners of some of the Wayside sectors. And if they could get on his good side...

"And he said he'd be here?" Piccolo voiced his own opinion of the matter. Kale didn't much like it, either, but they had to take their chances. The kids were supposedly safe in the ship, but who knew how safe "safe" was anymore? He took a quick glance upward, spotting the Namekian observing from a distant loft. Surprisingly, he didn't quite stand out like a sore thumb here.

"Not exactly," Goten came back. "But he'll be here. I know it. He can't resist the kind of message I left him."

Kale nodded. If he knew the fringe, then Goten most certainly had a point. "Can't exactly turn your backs on a new 'Cloaker', can you?" Kale chuckled. The promise of a high-powered cloaking shield that could allow ships to hide themselves from some of the most powerful beings in the galaxy kind of had that effect on a people who were ilegally running operations behind their backs.

"I wouldn't," the saiyajin conceded. "And neither will he."

"I still don't like it," Piccolo said. "If we were followed..."

"If we were followed," Kale interrupted. "Then we were already screwed to begin with." Piccolo's pause on the other end of the com told him that the Namekian, however reluctantly, agreed. "What exactly are we dealing with, Goten?"

The saiyajin began to make his way to a small stand of unknown fruit, picking up pieces in his hand as he spoke quietly into his earpiece. "Ner himself is a pussycat, though his size and talk don't quite give off that first impression. His bodyguards on the other hand..." Goten eyed a particularly odd-looking delicacy for a period of time, and tossed some credits to the vendor, who thanked him in her own tongue. Taking a small bite as he pretended to browse, he continued. "First of all, they carry the specially designed KI sidearms."

"KI?" Piccolo growled.

Kale hissed between his teeth. "So it seems that not even you guys are bullet proof anymore."

"I stopped relying on my power level long ago, friend," Goten corrected the pilot. "It'll only get you in trouble." For a brief moment, Kale could have sworn that the man had given a quick glance towards Piccolo, but there was no way to be sure.

When Capsule Corp had gone universal in its expansion, the floodgates of enterprise had come crashing down. With the addition of nearly instant cross-galaxy travel years later through the "Gate" technology, every solar system had become up for grabs. Along with major corporations and rich power mongers, the mercernaries and guerillas had tagged along, working for hire to ensure that the property, and/or goods stayed in tact. The universe having become wide open, all kinds of beings with enormous power levels had begun to spring up left and right, and eventually, the non-ki manipulators were beginning to be muscled out of the very market that they had created for themselves. The only way to fight back was through the highly destructive KI series of weaponry that had been created through a surviving branch of the currently non-existent "Red Ribbon" entity. A Frengan scientist that was familiar with ki usage had developed power packs that harnessed massive amounts of energy that could be loaded into handhelds, firing a compact beam of ki at the user, often instantly killing them. As of late, the technology had developed even further, into a small sidearm that could be holstered on any belt...

For obvious reasons, this spelled doom for the ones who had once been held invincible in the eyes of many.

"Those things have been springing up far too often lately," Kale noted.

"I've noticed that myself," Goten paused as he crossed the square, still moving about nonchalantly.

"What do you think it means?" Piccolo asked.

"Who knows?" the saiyajin mused. He approached a small waste recepticle, and tossed his now-finished piece of fruit within. "Any number of things. Price drop, increased production, corporate mergers..."

The Namek growled. "I don't like it." Kale frowned. Through their time together, he had learned to trust Piccolo's sense of danger, and had often found himself observing the alien for any outward signs of concern or worry. If Piccolo didn't like the way a situation felt, he was usually on to something. So what could be going on here?

He shook the thoughts away. "I heard that Ner travels with a Larn... Is that true?"

Goten chuckled. "You sure know your smugglers." Kale decided to take that as a compliment. The saiyajin laughed, and then continued. "Yes, it's true. Big, menacing thing, too. It's name is Raland."

"Lovely." Kale shivered at just the thought. Through all of his experiences of freelancing for various big-wigs of the underworld, his worst one had been with the Larn. They stood at over seven feet tall, with arms the size of tree trunks, and stark ugliness to boot. This particular breed was as nasty as they were large, and he had heard and known nothing but trouble from them. If Ner had one working for him, then the trio definitely had their work cut out for them.

"Would that be our friend, now?" Piccolo suddenly asked. Kale shot his vision towards the green fighter, who merely nodded to the western end of the market.

"Give it a second," Goten answered, shuffling his way back to his original end near the gamblers. Kale narrowed his gaze, looking to where his friend had pointed. After a moment or two of confusion, he spotted it...

A large red-skinned alien, with a beard that flowed down the length of his torso, was stumbling his way drunkenly through the crowd. He was causing quite the commotion, bumping obnoxiously with several species who were paying watch to a bad Renian magician. About three meters to his right, the unmistakably enormous frame of the Larn could be spotted, manuevering his way towards the center with speed and nimbleness that was incongruous with his size. He deflty found his way to the trash recepticle to the eastern end, taking something from his pocket, and tossing it within. After a nod to an unseen individual, he moved back towards the western entrance, bumping into the red-skinned "drunk" on his way out. They exchanged knowing glances, and after another second or two of drunken stupor, the larger fellow made his exit as well.

"Interesting," Kale commented, looking to the trash bin. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Goten said. The human nodded at his approval, and made his way across the market, eventually coming to the basket on the eastern corner. Kneeling to the ground in an attempt to lace his boot, he reached within, grasping a hold of the small datacard that was taped to the top. For something so large, the Larn had definitely been highly skilled in the art of maintaining a cover. He had only been at the bin for a moment, which, for him, had been enough time to seal the datacard with a quick movement of his hand. Impressive...

"Got it," Kale informed his comrades, standing up as he placed the card within his coat.

"Sounds good," Goten's static reply sounded somewhat relieved. "Let's take this back to the _Dissenter_. Your ship does have a proper debug on it, doesn't it, Kale?"

"Ha," the pilot snickered. "You might as well ask if it has flying capabilities, too."

Goten seemed a bit irritated. "Point."

"Let's get out of here," Piccolo quickly reminded them of where they were in relation to everyone else. "I think someone's watching us."

Kale hissed between clenched teeth. He should have thought to check on that... It was just as well, though. They didn't have ulterior motives in meeting with Ner, and they planned on following up on their proposal. But still, the thought was quite unnerving.

"Piccolo's right," Goten muttered. "Back to the _Dissenter_, double-quick. Stay on-line, and make sure you're not followed."

"Gotcha. Kale out."

With a brisk turn, he made his way out of the opposite end of the square, making sure to follow the path amongst the backalleys he had already set out for himself. Whatever this datacard had on it, it was about to help make or break a long chain reaction of events...

For the sake of the resistance, Kale hoped that they had bought it.


	12. Chapter 11

"What does it say?" Piccolo hunched over Kale's shoulder, trying to make something out of the information that was flickering across the screen. Right now, the system's debugs were scanning the datacard, extracting its memory, and then looping it back on itself in order to fullproof and verify that there were no tracers, viruses, or the like hidden within its code. According to Kale, the _Dissenter_ was running state-of-the-art material, matched only by the Galactics' scanners themselves... The Namek didn't know if he believed that or not.

"Hard to say, it's still running its scan," Kale chewed absent-mindedly on the side of his mouth, reminding Piccolo of a cow. It was something that the pilot did every now and then, a result of his lack of patience. From behind them, Goten entered.

"How are the kids?"

"Sleeping," the saiyajin answered. "Can't blame them. It's midnight on Earth. Any luck?"

"Not... just... yet," Kale said each word with a hesitation, as the machine began to finish its procedures. With a few consecutive blips and beeps, they had what they needed.

"Well," he whistled. "They bought it."

He didn't sound so sure. Piccolo gave him a suspicious glance. "You don't seem to believe that."

"Neither do I," Goten peered at the screen. " 'Nightfall, Alernin SpacePort, Pad 6. We will make our offers there for the precious goods.' " He read the monitor aloud. "He obviously suspects something. No immediate offer, no specifications."

"So what do we do?" Piccolo asked.

"Well, we don't have much of a choice," Goten replied. "I mean, this is what we were going to have to do, regardless. But, if he's on to us..."

Kale stirred. "Somehow I feel that he guards his back, regardless. What else can he do? We gave him an anonymous tip on an unmarked frequency at random. Of course he's going to watch himself."

"This is true."

The green-skinned warrior looked back and forth between the two smugglers in his midst. From the way they talked, they could have known each other for years. Perhaps that was the common bond of the lives of the freelancers. That sense of comradery that comes and goes with risking your wellbeing time and time again. Like warriors... Kale certainly knew how to take care of himself, and proved to Goten that he also knew a thing or two about the business. They could make a powerful duo...

In silence, the three of them eased back, trying to absorb their plight, and then move forward. But how?

"Well," Kale broke the hush. "I think we have the advantage. He probably thinks he's dealing with some amateurs."

"Right," Goten rested his chin on his fist. "I don't know what we're sitting here trying to decide. We have to go. If we want a leg up on the Galactics, this is what has to be done."

Piccolo grinned. "I thought you didn't want to help us."

"I'm not doing this for you," he shot him a glare as cold as ice. "Drop it."

"Hey, guys, take the ki stuff outside," Kale interrupted with a laugh. "I like my ship to stay in one piece." Piccolo and Goten maintained eye contact for a moment longer, and then retreated. The tension lingered for a second or two, but left as quickly as it had arrived.

"Now," the pilot breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Are we going, or not?"

-------

At the height of its prosperity, Yardstae had clued in that expansion was needed on their already flourishing spaceport, Alernin. Since it was constantly shuffling intergalactic traders in and out of its belly, the system officials started a campaign to nearly double its sheer size and height. Its immediate effects had proved somewhat deficient to its buzz of tourists and businessmen alike, since construction on the upper levels had somewhat inhibited the outer pads from being used, creating quite a stream of air traffic in the higher altitudes. The result was an overabundance of pirating scams. Various fringe dealers who had electronics experts on their crew figured that they would bypass the backup of pad lottings by hacking into the O.A. (Order of Arrival) list, and moving their freighters up to the very top, completely confusing the chain of ships that were waiting patiently (and not so patiently) for their turn at docking. And, of course, the reciprocations for this kind of activity usually invovled something similar to mass chaos.

Right now was one of those times.

"Meg at 'il ak _un_!!" a fera shouted angrily towards a humanoid figure climbing out of his ship. The humanoid wore an eye patch, and smoked on something similar to a cigar on Earth. Goten smirked, recalling the faint scent of tobacco and sweetness rolled into the tight alien inhalant. That sure brought back memories...

"Oh, I'm in _your_ place?" The humanoid inquired sarcastically. He drew a firearm, and the fera shouted his angry warning cry of vengeance. Within an instant, all hell was breaking loose on the pad between their crews.

This was a common occurrence between dock pirates, one that the saiyajin had seen far too often in his private rendezvous. After a few seconds of brisk walking, he was past the scuffle. A sign overhead told him that he had just surpassed bay 10, and that 6 was to the left. The area smelled of fuel cells. Goten could recognize that burning sensation in his nostrils like it was a second nature.

It had been Piccolo's idea to travel together across the spaceport, though the saiyajin had been adamantly opposed to this. They were obviously going to stick out like sore thumbs. That Namek just didn't know when to back down...

"They know we're coming," Piccolo huffed silently.

"I _knew_ those ears weren't just for decoration," Kale stated, quite amused with himself. "So let's have it."

"Someone spotted us over in the tower."

Goten knew from the corner of his eye. He was speaking of one of the various nightguard towers that were constantly running communications between the air traffic, and O.A. crew, sorting the importance of certain vehicles in relation to the others. It was just like Ner to have someone watching in the wings... In his mind, he wondered if this was in addition to the three distracters that had dropped the package in the Yardstae square, or one of them.... They were about to find out.

"Alright," the smuggler spoke. "Since you guys are coming along, we're doing this my way. Kale, you know how these things go. Piccolo, for Kami's sake, keep your mouth _shut_." The other grunted his disapproval from beside him. "Yeah, it's no fun, but the last thing we want is some heat from an unfriendly group of bodyguards. I'd even venture to say that that little spectacle we witnessed back there was part of Ner's operation, providing us with a bit of background noise. Let me do the talking, and everyone will get out of this just fine."

As he finished, they rounded the corner, stepping directly into the dimly lit area of pad 6. On either side of the trio, there stood a pile of crates and shafts alike, barred with construction signs designating that they should be avoided. The night sky seemed to stretch on endlessly above them. If one looked hard enough, he could make out the drive trails of several orbitting vehicles. Across the docking bay, an obviously high-class ship was sitting pretty, on display for anyone with an appetite for a good flyer. It was a Cernian class R10 Hopper, complete with its own modifications to the dorsal and exterior thrusters, as well as an extended set of turrets over head. From the looks of it, Goten judged that it could comfortably man about fifteen individuals, including equipment. It most likely needed three people to operate at maximum capability, which was usually the case with the Cernian aircraft. Two for the cockpit, one for the system's drive computers. Ner's quarters were probably in the rear of the ship, with his crew spread out through the levels... There appeared to be three of them.

"Nice wings," Kale commented.

"I'm glad you like it," a rough but firm voice called out to them. Ner. Even in the darkness, Goten could make out his unmistakable figure.

Ner had to be about the stockiest character the saiyajin had ever run in to, short and broad, which gave most the first impression that he packed some power within his compact arms. His skin was a light gray, and his eyes were a dull yellow surrounded by hazel. As he moved into the light, Goten could see that he had obviously aged with the stress that smuggling had become these days. His white hair was almost nonexistent, and his face was unshaven. The metal tipped boots he wore clanged noisily on the pad. Kale shifted slightly, his leather jacket making a kind of rubbing sound that seemed amplified in the quiet.

"Ah, Goten..." Ner was only a few meters away now. He pulled out a small white cloth and batted his sweaty face with it. "When I first received the message, I thought: Now, only an idiot could expect _me_ to fall for this. And then I wondered if it was true..." Goten made no movements, allowing his face to be unreadable. Any emotion would give Ner the edge he wanted. The Bwanii smuggler snorted. "And _then_ I heard that you were no longer running dealings... That you had abandoned your home and run away in fear. I knew, Goten, I knew..." He spoke with exaggerated movements of his bulky arms. "You didn't bring me out hear to deal... So what _do_ you want?" Ner's eyes constricted to tiny slits. He was quietly judging them.

"We want to deal," Goten said calmly. That seemed to surprise the other. "But not like this. I don't like having guns pointed at me." Ner rubbed his teeth back and forth. It made something of a grinding sound; a movement he performed when he was cornered.

"Well," he grunted. "I suppose there's no point in keeping up a charade. Come out!" He spoke the last outwards into the shadows. Within a few seconds, the noise of shuffling feet, weaponry, and general movement were coming from all around them. After a minute, everything was fully visible. Behind Ner now were the red-skinned alien and the Larn, providing a sharp visual contrast when standing side by side. To their left, a humanoid being was standing atop a crate, his KI sidearm holstered. And on the right, much to no one's surprise, was the Renian magician who had provided quite a distraction for the audiences in the market. He was out of his street attire, and into some combat gear. He wore no weapon... ki user?

Piccolo emmitted a low groan. "And the last one." Ner gave him a sharp look, full of shock and anger at the same time.

"Ooh, he's angry," Goten smiled. "You don't want to see him riled up, do you?" Ner muttered something profane in his own tongue, and then called out to the last goon. From within the hatch of the ship, came a staut green alien, with four eyes...

"Get the hell back in that ship!" Piccolo suddenly shouted at it. He raised his forearm towards it, drawing a quick aim from Ner's crew. Goten gave him an angry look. What had him so spooked? The saiyajin gave the alien another quick once-over. Four eyes... it reminded him of the stories that Gohan had told him about the Ginyu Force; the one that could manipulate time by holding his breath... No wonder it made Piccolo so jumpy.

"Goten," Ner spoke soothingly. "Tell your brute to calm himself, and he won't have to suffer the consequences."

"Piccolo..."

"Cool it, Namek," Kale commanded along with Goten.

"He doesn't stay," Piccolo ignored them and turned his vision straight to Ner, who seemed to be trying to hide a secret. After a moment of tense hesitation, he lowerd his aim at the four-eyed alien. "Tell him to breathe with his mouth open."

Ner gave a hearty chuckle at this, and shook his head.

"You think I'm joking?" With that, the laughter stopped, halted in its tracks by Piccolo's absolute determination. "And if he thinks he can hold his breath, he's fooling himself. If I hear it falter or even slow down for an instant, I'll kill him. Make sure he understands that." The gray skinned Bawnii relayed this to the bas-jin, who rolled all four of his eyes, and then did as he was ordered.

"I'm impressed," Goten said. "Quite a crew here. The time manipulator makes sense, now. I knew there was no way that the Larn could have had that datacard rigged up that quickly. So what did he throw in there, a surveyor? So you could see our faces?" Ner was making the grinding motion with his teeth again. "Yeah, that's what it was. A pretty handy shipmate, I must say. Where did you find him?"

"Deal!" The Larn growled, stomping forwards quickly. "You waste our time."

"No small talk, then? Ner, I'm hurt. It's been so long..."

"Get to your point, Goten. I know you don't have the cloakers." Ner was batting his face again with the not-so-white cloth.

"And you presume correctly," the saiyajin answered. "No, we don't have anything like that. However, I hear that they are in the works... Anyhow, that's not what I came to talk to you about... I'm sure you've most likely heard about the uprising against the Galactics?"

"You mean that joke of a rebellion? Who hasn't?"

"Good, then we're on the same page. What do you know about saiyajin?"

Ner paused. "I know that there are supposed to be none left. Or at least, that was the story. Rumor has it that three of them were brought out of Earth... some kids that had quite some power."

"Yes, it's true. Them and their captors are on all kinds of 'wanted' lists."

The smuggler grinned."So your friends here kidnapped the saiyajins. What does it have to do with me?" So he knew more than he let on.

"Everything, Ner," Goten let his voice grow more serious. "Where do you think the Galctics are going to look first?"

"And when they come around, what's to stop me from telling them about you?" He took a step towards them. "I mean, why don't we just capture you now, and take the bounty?"

The saiyajin figured he would play that card. It didn't really matter. "And you have no bounty on your own head?"

"I'm sure they would gladly clean the slate for the prize I would have for them."

"But would they?" Goten asked, giving a sly grin. "You and I both know that as long as the Galactics are around, there is no kind of security. Would you really turn in the only hope against them?"

"It's not my battle, saiyajin." Ner had a few tricks left, it seemed. He smirked. "That's right. Saiyajin. The Larn can smell one from a mile away, or so he says. He's never really liked them..."

"Your battle or not," Kale spoke up. "You're about to get drawn into it. The Galactics are going to get whoever they can to become their puppets. And he'll probably start at the top of the chain. Namely- you."

"I am no one's puppet," the dealer snapped. "Not yours, not anyone's."

"Oh, but you will be," Kale continued. Goten had to admit that he was impressed at how the human handled himself, surrounded by a crew that could incinerate him at a moment's notice. "They'll see to that. Are you going to sit by while they uproot your whole organization right out from under you? Everything you've worked so hard for? They'll assure you that it's for the 'Greater Good of the Empire'. Do you want that?"

"It won't happen," Ner said. "Not without a fight."

"So it's a deal, then?" Goten interrupted.

The other shook his head in frustration. "I'm not going to help your rebellion."

"Then you're helping them," Piccolo decided to throw in his two cents. "They'll be sure to tap into your resources, and your business to search out any opposers. You will be a part of them. And if you refuse, they'll kill you. That's the way they work."

"Whether you like it or not, you're about to get involved," Goten quoted his encounter with Piccolo at his home. "You have to make your choice before it happens. Before it's too late. With your connections, we would more than have what we need to crush the Galactics, and you know it."

Ner sighed. "Look... I'll think about it. No promises."

Kale stepped forward. "And when the Galactics visit you?"

"I'll tell them the truth, that I don't know where you all are going," he replied. "I owe Goten that much. I give you my word." Kale started to say something, but Goten quieted him with a firm hand.

"Whenever you're ready," the saiyajin urged him. He turned then, beckoning Piccolo and Kale to follow him. Ner wouldn't shoot them in the back. A smuggler he may be, but his word was good. "Be ready to hear from them soon!" He called over his shoulder as they exited the bay.

"So what, we leave just like that?" Kale asked.

"He needs time to think," Goten answered. "This is a touchy thing. Trust me, I've been there."

"Well, let's hope he doesn't tell the Galactics what he knows," Piccolo muttered.

"He won't. I'm sure of it."

"I sure hope so," the Namek trailed off. "Or this whole thing will be over before it starts."


	13. Chapter 12

To anyone else, the rocky overlay would have seemed drab, boring, and depressing. The metal wires and random bulletin boards drilled against the side of the hollowed out cave stood out almost threateningly, swamped with enormous amounts of news bits, and little messages. Throughout it, the voices of workers and fellow soldiers could be heard. A power tool whirring viciously. A buzz saw cutting through a slender pipe. Men laughing and joking together as they welded various salvaged metal goods together. The odor of mold was overwhelming from the instant it was entered. To Ubuu, it was home.

He stepped forward into the large cavernous structure, hearing the echo of activity as he sealed the metallic doors shut behind him. On the outside, it appeared as the rest of the mountainous system that surrounded it. 17 and 18 had suggested this particular area as the point from which to direct their operations, as it was their old home. From the very beginning, Ubuu had known that Dr. Gero's old laboratory was definitely well hidden, carved out, and provided a good bit of protection from any oncoming threats. Upon arrival, the first order of business had been to create a series of tunnels that would enable almost instant evacuation, as well as an efficient transportation service throughout the rest of the range. In other areas, there were large docking bays, weapon storage units, barracks, dorms, and even a cafeteria. All in all, there were nearly four thousand men and women alike living in the underground quasi-utopia of the "Ward", as so many of the brutes had dubbed it.

The dark skinned leader of the rebellion stood silently, taking in the feel of home, letting its warmth seep into him. One of the greater pleasures of life was returning to the safety of security. The Galactics had not been able to take that away from him...yet.

Ubuu sighed, and walked slowly through the main hall, taking note of the slow progress of the metal sheet casing that was being planned for the walls. Recently, many of the Wayward had taken it upon themselves to reinforce the cavern walls with whatever steel they could scrap together, and wasn't good enough to be used on aircraft. The result was a rather shabby, but sturdy, interior. As he strolled through, different pieces of the wall reflected as they pleased, some stretching his dark image, and others not reflecting at all, due to being covered with rust. It reminded Ubuu of a funhouse.

He approached a group of friends in pilot uniforms who were taking in some coffee. The scent burned Ubuu's nose the way Chi Chi's used to. Memories...

"Good evening, sir," one of the men saluted him. The patch over his heart read "Carlington."

"Stop that, you know I hate it," he smiled back. He appreciated the general respect that they showed him, and loved them all dearly for it. Life was about community for him, and here he had one, even amongst so many faces.

"Are you looking for the androids, sir?" Another one asked after their brief chuckle had subsided. "They were asking around for you earlier."

Ubuu raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware of that. Did they say where they were going to be?"

He nodded. "Check the barracks, sir. We got the new shipment in." The pilot pointed to the corridor on the left. "From what I hear, it's good stuff. 17 seemed particularly excited."

"Oh really?" Ubuu thought about this for a moment. Had they already come in? "Thanks, guys." He walked past them, and they saluted him once more, eliciting a smile from the humble leader. As soon as he was past them, the smile transformed into more of a thoughtful expression, full of the emotions that were jumbled around in his head. Particularly the burdens.

All of this. It would sometimes hit him in waves, taking its time to sink in to his being. He was in charge of _lives_- people that would follow him with no thought for themselves. And for what? He had no promises for them, no proof that things would go their way at all. All he had was the vision for a better future. That was their uniting force.

It had happened quite unexpectedly, actually. About seven years previous, he had been on his way home after a day of work, and witnessed a Galactic soldier beating an innocent woman senseless. Granted, he had seen the same kind of thing time and time again, but it was like something had finally snapped within. _I'm through hiding._ His last coherent thought. Before he knew it, he had singlehandedly wiped out a whole platoon of the bastards. And along with that, had come the onlookers. The fathers, the mothers, the teenagers, the homeless. They all looked at him with a sense of hope... Something he had long forgotten.

The way he had looked up to Goku. The way everyone did. Like a vise grip, the feeling siezed a hold of him like nothing he had ever experienced before. It welled up within him, and poured out into his actions. His training would not be wasted. Goku was going to have a legacy, and Ubuu took it upon himself to see that it was carried out. Was this what it was like? Had this been the sense of duty that his teacher had conveyed?

He sulked. How could he live up to that? Ubuu slowly shook his head, trying to force away the melancholy sensation that had overwhelmed him so. The corridor suddenly seemed longer than before, the lights seemed darker. It had set in again...

The defender of Earth began to walk down the major tunnel intersection, veering off to the left. The layout of the Ward consisted of a major intersection, sectored off into the North, East, South, and Western quadrants. Because of its relative similarity to the universe, different areas took on certain nicknames. For instance, the control room was known to the citizens of the Ward as the "Sun". Such intricacies could provide useful for any kind of code that they might like to use in the future.

On the North Side were the dorms and medical areas, complete with out of practice doctors for the sick, and, occasionally, wounded. On the Eastern end were the general bulk of hangars and docking pads, along with the pilot's quarters, as well as the cafeteria, and general goods smuggled in from the outside in large quantities. To the West, many of the military supplies were stored, and also the transportation and computer facilities. On the South...

Getting the amount of people down there unnoticed had proven to be quite the task. Elton Frind was the resident hacker of the Wayward, and the vast majority of his day was spent operating and maintaining their privacy to the Galactics. His first step in creating the Ward had been to eliminate the people from the system as deaths, travelers, or any other excuses they could think up. It had been a long and arduous project, spanning several years' time to effectively get everyone in without a trace. And Elton had certainly performed one hell of a job when he did it, working with the technicians to also insulate the entire cavernous domain with anti-sensory devices, to keep the presence of life from being monitored from outside of the rock. He was a genius, and it certainly was more than helpful to have him aboard.

Ubuu was on the Western end now, coming upon the yellow framed doors that told him he was at the barracks. With a quick nod to the guards, he entered, moving with ease through the rows of weaponry. He knew exactly where he was headed...

After a few moments of navigation, he was there, opening the back door into the dimly lit domicile where the androids stayed.

"Ah, there you are," 17 hopped up from his chair, crossing the room to meet him. "What took you so long?"

"I was in the greenhouse," Ubuu replied, looking to the left side of the floor, which happened to be 18's. "Needed some time to think."

"Hi, Ubuu," 18 called from her standard military bed, not looking up from her computer. Her eyes were scanning the screen rapidly, soaking in the information on its display with obvious inhuman speed. It seemed she was still brushing up on the Galactics' arsenal.

"I never understood the fascination with plants much, myself," 17 said with that ever-so-smug tone that seemed to be forever lodged in his throat.

"It's a human thing, I guess."

"Ooh. Point for Ubuu." The android turned then, doing his best to be animated in his speech. He walked towards a table under a desklamp at the far end of the room. "Take a look at this."

He wasn't much for conversational etiquette, Ubuu mused. This had to be as excited as the machine could muster. The defender of Earth followed him, stepping over the various clutter that was usually plastered to their floor. 17 had recently taken up an interest in all kinds of trinkets and gadgets, bringing whatever stray workings he could into their room to see what he could conjure up.

"What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much... Just-" He pulled away the cloth that was on the desk, revealing an obviously high-powered assault rifle. "This."

"He's been drooling over that since it got in," 18 called to them. She still didn't lift her eyes from the screen. Ubuu furrowed his brow as he studied the weapon. It stood at nearly a meter and a half long, with a long slender computerized scope attached at the top. The base appeared light, sporting padding for extra support in the shoulder. A small slit in the barrel provided ventilation near the muzzle so that it didn't kick back from the apparent power supplied with the pack on the right-hand side. Near the tip of the barrel, scrawled neatly with gold on the side, were the two letters that Ubuu had looked for- "KI."

"It's a beauty, no?" 17 asked as he lifted it from the stainless steel desktop. It made a scratching noise as he pulled it away. "I'll take this over a flower to look at any day."

"Wow," was all that Ubuu managed to get out. "They came through, then?"

"Yes, and with flying colors. The remaining KI distributors were rather prompt, too." He peered through the scope, and then, with one hand, held out the rifle to Ubuu. Turning to the side, he pulled one of the metal panels engraved into the side of the wall, and raised it up, revealing the window that overlooked the ocean. In the distance, the lights of Orange Star City could be seen. "Go ahead, see for yourself."

Ubuu effortlessly holstered the rifle, and brought it up to his line of sight. He impacted the base against his shoulder, and turned the scope to point through the window. While the fighter had had little experience with weaponry, he had learned at least a little from 17, who took pride in a well constructed firearm. Why he was so fascinated by them, the human could never understand- but, to each his own...

Suddenly, a world of color opened up before his squinted eyes. What was he looking at?

"You're seeing the billboard that sits at the edge of the ocean. Zoom out." Ubuu did as he was told, and suddenly realized how much of a sight adjustment this sniper's rifle had on it. Orange Star City was well over a mile away... Though he was breathing heavily, it remained steady, electronically enhanced to correct for human error.

"Like I said- wonderful," 17 smirked as he took the gun from Ubuu's grasp. Children didn't like to lend their toys out.

"Will it do?"

"Of course."

"Good to know," Ubuu responded, and leaned against the desk. "Who else knows about this?"

"Just Elton," 17 answered as he set the rifle down on his bed. "He's the one that found the rumors on the system about the political demonstrations. Apparently, they have a Galactic scientist making some public speech about a new kind of technology that will help seek out the 'persecutors of our freedoms'. They're trying to mobilize the people against us."

"Whatever they're trying to do, we need to show them that they won't always come out on top of us." Ubuu rested his fist on his strong chin.

17 smirked. "That's the plan."

"When are they going to make the announcement?"

18 stirred, and rose from the bed, brushing a hand through her blonde hair. "Thursday, 10:45 A.M."

The warrior propped his head on the wall. "Two days, then? Do you two have a plan, yet?"

"I'm looking into it," 18 moved to her closet, opening it to look through her various outfits. "What would be a good undercover scarf?"

"Well, get back to me as soon as possible about this. It's pretty risky."

17 snorted at that. "And freeing the saiyajin wasn't? I think we can handle this, they won't be able to track us at all."

Ubuu met his confident eye. While he had gotten somewhat used to their sporadic way of working, he still wasn't always comfortable with it. Something felt uneasy about this... "If we do it right, they won't. I want something in writing tomorrow. If not, we don't do it. Understood?"

"Of course, _El Capitan_," the android smugly retorted, doing his best to impersonate a French accent. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some planning to do." Ubuu nodded, and they said their goodbyes- brief, as always.

By the time he had made it back to the main corridor, that sense of anxiety had left him. He hoped that it wouldn't come back.


	14. Chapter 13

After a long day, the captain's chair always felt that much better. The upholstery was a masterfully designed fabric, contorting to the very figure that inhabited it. Apparently, it was known to the people of Earth as "leather." Ner released a sound of derision as he leaned back into its accepting arms. Like the arms of a female...

Boy, that would be nice right about now. It had been awhile since they had made any kind of stops of pleasure; business had been in high demand as of late. With the new surgence of KI...

The reminder prompted him to reach within his vest, dropping the small sidearm on the crystal table next to his beverage. He took a quick sip of it, tasting the alcohol laced within. It burned his throat. His senses seemed to enhance when he was under the influence. There was a time of clarity of thought, followed by intense relaxation. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Though the ship's computers were off for the night, their mechanisms were just beginning to cool down, sending off dozens of slow whining sounds, succeeded by clicks here and there. It was to him almost like the gentle ticking of a clock. Or perhaps the beating heart of a woman...

_Goten._Ner sat up abruptly, causing a crisp cry of complaint from the scrunched leather beneath him. The smuggler put his face in his hands, feeling the fleshy folds of skin bunch under calloused palms. After running a not-so-thin-hand through his now thinning hair, he swore out loud.

It was very apparent to him that he only thought about the touch of a female when he was upset or burdened. The Bawnii began to extend his compact arm towards his drink once more, but clenched his fist together half way there.

Drinking was another habit of his burdened soul.

With a muffled grunt of frustration, he cleared the table with a sweep of his hand, throwing the glass and bottle with a shattering impact to the floor. The tiny shards bouncing off of the metal surface echoed in his mind like the drumming of rain against the hull of a ship...

Curse that saiyajin...

Though he knew the implications that his words would have on Ner, he continued anyway. _"Whether you like it or not, you're about to get involved..."_ is what he had said. But would he really? Was there no avoiding it? The smuggler rose and began to pace quietly, crunching the sparkling debris underneath his boot. The distinctive stench of alcohol had pervaded the room now. It made him sick. It made him sick because it made him think about his troubles.

"_You have to make your choice before it happens. Before it's too late..."_

Goten sincerely believed that. Ner had conversed with him enough throughout the years to tell when he was just saying something to evoke an emotion, and when he really had his guts behind it. And now, he did. He believed in this "revolution", and he wanted Ner to. Why the change of heart?

Ner frowned. He was in too deep to change his ways. He could never become clean; washing his hands of a mess this enormous required the kinds of resources that even he did not have access to. The alien paused in his roaming.

"I'm always going to be a smuggler." He spoke the words aloud to quiet down Goten's voice in his ringing ears, and the crackle of glass.

"_...Before it's too late..."_

The Bawnii felt his shoulders droop with the weight that those words had heaved upon him. Sooner or later, it would be _too late_. And where would he be when that happened? If he made a decision either way- would he regret it? If he made a choice not to choose- would he regret that, as well? Where would he be when it was _too late_? Or would he be nowhere at all?

The smuggler settled his tired bones in the warmth of the leather captain's chair. He was expecting to hear from the Galactics any day, now. Hopefully, he could keep both them and Goten at bay. Both sides were going to be hitting him hard if either of them found out about...

The footsteps caught him off guard. Without looking, he knew that it was Raland. The thundering presence of a Larn was not easily mistaken as something else.

"Everything is fine, Raland," Ner assured him without looking up, rubbing his forehead back and forth between his thumb and ring finger. He closed his eyes yet again and took another deep breath. There was the fragrance of alcohol again.

"I was just making sure," the enormous creature spoke quietly in the echoing low-ceiling room. That made things easier. A headache was starting to set in. "I still think that we should have finished the tracer job."

Of course he did. "Goten is no threat to us right now," the other replied. He wiped his hand over his face, and sat up straight. "Hell, we ought to be more worried about what the Galactics are going to say."

"I think the rebellion is foolish."

"I know what you think." Ner wanted a drink. And a woman. "We have to wait this out, Raland. Trust me. When things start getting fishy, we'll blow stuff up and get the hell out."

Raland seemed only slightly at ease. "Are you going to tell them about Marndol?"

It was a fair question. "Tell who? Goten or the Galactics?"

"Either. Take your pick."

"I'm not going to give out information like _that_ until I'm certain that we've chosen a side. _If_- and that's one huge 'if'- we even do choose one."

The Larn seemed to think that was funny. "It seems to me that your mind is already made up."

And with that, Ner reached for the control pad next to his chair. He thumbed off the lights, and the presence of darkness flooded him with its reassuring black tinge.

"I want to go to sleep now."

After a moment or two of silence, the Larn chuckled, sighed, and left. Once he was gone, Silence entered. Ner wished he hadn't thrown the bottle of alcohol on the floor.

-------

The lack of sleep seemed to be a common occurrence throughout the universe.

Piccolo sauntered through the knee-high grass of a small clearing on the forest planet of Ferna. In the light of the three moons, his skin seemed to take on a new tint of green color. It was a constant reminder of what he was. The Demon King of old.

He was a few hundred meters out from the _Dissenter_ now. Hopefully, he wouldn't wake the kids. A small malfunction in one of the lifts had left them to set down on Ferna only a few hours previous. The ride had been filled with much silence on the Namek's part. His soul was not at ease this evening. It was a mystery to him...

Actually, it wasn't. He didn't belong in smuggling meetings with Goten and Kale. The aforementioned saiyajin still hadn't forgiven him. That was fine by Piccolo, he hadn't forgiven him either. Or himself, for that matter...

What had he been thinking? This was out of his league. And not just the smugglers, but everything else on top of that. He brought his eyes to shut tight, and let his ears touch out the area around him. A cricket sounded. The wind was coming over the hill on his left. A bird was chirping as it set off from a tree nearby. And his heart was anxious.

He had grown used to the feeling of helplessness throughout the years. But this was different. Before, he had always known that patience would bring him through, to the time where hope could be reborn. That time was now, and yet... he felt nothing. Helplessness was a wet garment clinging to his back.

"I'm no leader."

Things had been easier in the past. Everything was Goku's doing. The rest of them had looked up to him for their guidance, for their strength, for their perseverance. They merely emulated what they saw in him. Piccolo didn't have anything like that to offer. He was no Goku. He was the Demon King. He was Ma Junior. He was in the shadow of the saiyajins, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did. What had happened? In the past, he was a force to be reckoned with. Did his training mean nothing? Did _everything_ mean nothing?

"No." The words echoed loudly within his own ears. He hadn't realized that his eyes were still closed. Pollen was heavy in the air now. The wind tickled his nostrils.

The memories of his first encounter with Cell quickly rushed to the forefront of his mind. Piccolo smiled at the recollection, remembering the sensation and knowledge that had come when he recognized that he was the strongest of them- even Goku. He had faced the new threat of Cell with confidence and cunning. The memory brought a tiny frown to his face. He wanted that glory back.... He wanted to _belong_.

"Then you will."

His ears did not hear those last words. With a speed that surprised even him, he split in two, the separate halves leaping away from one another. Piccolo smiled at his counterpart, who returned the favor.

The Namek huffed, and lowered his body into an attack stance. "No ki."

At once, the alien entities came together in an exchange of punches and kicks. Piccolo stepped in and out of the other's attacks, spun, and threw a fist into its back. Wasting no time, he was on the offensive, lashing out against his turned opponent with renewed vigor. His twin whipped around at the last second, and met his assault with a defensive forearm of his own. Their faces were only centimeters apart...

The copy bounded away then, airborn into the grove of trees. Piccolo closed his eyes and followed, feeling him out without his vision to corrupt what he knew to be true. He pursued the various snippets of sound- a small twig snapping to his right, a rush of warm air below. Thrusting out his leg, he connected with the other in a powerful kick. The attack launched its body sideways, cracking the trunks of the mighty Ferna trees that stood at heights of over one hundred meters. They came down with a loud _crash_, kicking up dirt and debris as they smashed into the surrounding forest. Through the gap that the colossal plantlife left behind, a beam of moonlight was thrown upon the area, it's blue-white glow casting odd shadows about the community of arborial life.

Piccolo listened for a moment, and then pushed out his right arm to block the sudden surprise at his side. His other was pressing against him now, throwing blow after blow towards him. The Namek let his senses dull, and focused on the energy around him. Time became almost a standstill of perception for him, and he began to match the fighter. He ducked underneath a kick from his twin, and performed a handspring to vault his body backwards. Before his feet hit the ground, he kicked himself over his opponent with the aid of a tree for a kickoff. While still in the air, he used his clawed palm to backhand the other several meters away into the clearing. Piccolo smiled. He was alive again.

-------

"Wow," Vegeta whispered from the open door of the _Dissenter_. The yellow light from within flooded the immediate proximity in a cone of its own color, illuminating the grass below. Kale hadn't even noticed that the kids had come out.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be sleeping?" He asked, eying the three saiyajin boys. Pana and Goten must still be inside.

The oldest, Gokan, tip-toed out quietly. "We wanted to watch Piccolo." Kale liked this one. He was the quietest, and least annoying. And whenever he did have something to say, it was sweet and to the point.

"He's incredible." Boxers was looking past the pilot and out into the forest, where the two super-warriors were at battle.

Kale beamed with delight, though he didn't like it. These kids cracked him up. "You can see them?" The three nodded in sync, but probably didn't realize it. The Briefs children were next to one another, their similar features taking on a new light as they stared in bewilderment at Piccolo training with himself. The human furrowed his brow. They could see it? What little the Namek had taught him about ki, watching two of its users fight was one that had taken him a bit of time to get a hold of. For awhile, it had only appeared as random smashing noises, and kicked up dirt. After a few weeks of practice, he was finally able to watch Piccolo train, without straining himself. These kids could already do it...

"Woah!" Vegeta half-shouted, half-whispered. He was the most like the freelancer out of all of them- which is probably why he couldn't stand the kid. He was sometimes haughty, and his speech reflected that. Kale turned to see what the commotion was about. Then he saw. Piccolo and Piccolo were engaged in a huge battle skyward, flying towards one another rapidly. Their fists connected, and the two were sent wildly flipping away. Their feet hit the ground at the same time, and then they roared back into the air to meet again. Each time, they would impact, and flip away. Finally, one of them faked a move to the air, but darted towards the ground, and pulled off an aerial over his twin. He finished with a bone-crunching elbow that brought the other to the tall grass face-first.

Something told Kale that that had been the original who came out on top. He smiled at his newfound friend, proud that he was back in his element again. This is where Piccolo shined. The pilot had felt the alien's obvious discomfort around Goten for the past few days- there was something under the surface that neither of them could let go of. But here, during these moments, nothing could touch the fighter. All distractions became background fuzz, and the only thing that mattered was the glory of combat. His face gleamed like that of a god.

Kale was relieved. It was about time.

-------

Piccolo leaped backwards, narrowly dodging the other's kick. As soon as he felt the toes of his feet meet the grass, he was forward again, launching his arm at neck-height. He clotheslined the look-alike, who skimmed over and landed on his feet, having quickly regained his senses. Before Piccolo could avoid it, the counterpart latched onto his head, and slammed his cranium into the earth. It shook violently, breaking up beneath them.

The Namek bounced back to his stance in an instant, punching his opponent in the stomach so violently that it made an indention through his back. He stumbled a few steps rearward, and halted. They breathed in syncopation, listening to the heartbeats of one another as the sweat beaded across their foreheads. Even the wind had stopped. The grass stood still.

"Ki."

As soon as he had spoken the word, Piccolo took to the sky, barely dodging the blast of hot yellow energy that had come roaring his away. While in the air, he lowered his arm to aim below.

"Makekansappo!"

The spiraled beam of orange ki met the invisible barrier that the other erected just in time, detonating brilliantly around him. He flew upwards through the smoke , meeting the original in a firefight. They released countless firings upon one another, darting this way and that, the sky ablaze with their blasts. Piccolo threw his hands outward, and clenched them into tight fists. A surge of blue power erupted forth from his body that ripped into the ground just before his twin, kicking up a vicious explosion that twirled him away. Pressing his advantage, he formed a ball of ki in his hand, and met the sailing combatant by using the zanzoken to appear behind him. He never knew what hit him.

Even as the smoke cleared, Piccolo knew that it was over. Usually, he was dead even with himself. But something was different tonight... He felt like he could do anything, stop any kind of threat that would come his way. He felt worthy to follow in Goku's footsteps. His muscles relaxed, and flooded with the lactic acid as always; the result of the burn of an intense workout.

The green-skinned fighter walked through the haze, and met his counterpart, who was breathing heavily. They gave each other a nod to say "well done", and then merged back together as one. He turned his vision back towards the _Dissenter_ just in time to see the saiyajins and Kale duck back inside. He knew they had been watching. It was probably better that way. The next day, they would be arriving, and the training would begin.

He stood in the clearing, admiring the beautiful towering trees once more. Pillars of strength. Like Goku. Piccolo hoped that he could live a legacy like that some day... Right now, though, he needed sleep.

Tomorrow, he would start planting the seeds.


	15. Chapter 14

"10:40. All set up?" Ubuu spoke nonchalantly into his earpiece. He mixed in quite well with a group of humans and Galactics alike, sporting a baseball cap, and a trenchcoat. The light rain that was beginning to make its presence known proved to be nothing more than a small nuisance, easily overlooked by the press, who were gathered to watch the event unfold.

"Done and done," 17's voice came back through the distortion of static. Ubuu denied himself the urge to look in the android's direction, and merely moved to the middle of the crowd. He brushed shoulders with a few individuals, careful not to let his strength overpower someone and give himself away. The smell of cigarette smoke and wet concrete hung in the air like a noose, sealings its grip on him as he let the familiar senses be taken in.

The platform at the front of the crowd was rather ornate, a feel-good attempt by the Galactics to make themselves appear more grandiose in the presence of a "weaker" species. A tall canopy soared overhead, draping the stage with its insignia of the Galactic flag. Not surprisingly, it was a deep midnight blue, with a pair of pupil-less eyes in the very center, surrounded by four orbs that were meant to represent the four quadrants of the universe. The fabric that had once flapped noisily with the subtle breeze was now hanging limp, heavy with the rain droplets that were soaking into it. It was upheld by four enormous stone pillars, erected at each corner of the stage, angling down as it came to the front of the outcropping. A tree stand of lights were set at each side, and showered the podium with effulgence. As was the case with all public announcements, a group of high ranking officials sat at the backrow on stage, looking rather bored. There were five of them, Ubuu noted. From left to right, he could only match a name to a face for a few of the aliens, but the one on the farthest right side grabbed his attention. He froze.

"We have a problem," he whispered, making a move with his hand as if he was wiping his mouth. Couldn't take too many chances with so many enemies hovering around...

"Explain." 18's voice now. He was still unaware as to where exactly she was positioned, but it was no doubt at a point where she could keep an eye on both 17 and Ubuu.

The prodigy of Goku straightened up, adjusting his cap as he spoke. "Far right, panel of officials."

"Heh," 17 snorted. "Maybe I should just take him out instead..." Ubuu smiled, despite himself. However dangerous it may be, he loved the general "hell or high water" attitude that the androids delivered. It was quite the confidence booster. Luckily, he was their point of balance, so to speak. Someone had to be realistic, and it might as well be him.

"No," the fighter said quickly. "Stick to the plan. Last minute changes equal last minute screw-ups." He waited for a moment, then continued. "Got it?"

"Of course." 17 didn't sound too enthusiastic. Ubuu could care less. He didn't need the android deciding on any kind of on-the-fly improvisations when it came to things like this.

Particularly when J'erah himself was present.

The sense of unease had abruptly returned. The darkened warrior began to lightly crack his knuckles. They sounded to him like the snapping of bone by someone's hand... The ritual was only performed when he was anxious, though he was often unaware that he did so. However, right now, he was aware of even the most minute of details. The ringing of the cell phone playing "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" behind him. Crying baby in a stroller on the sidewalk a few meters down. The man smoking a cigarette on his right. The shiver of the cold globules of rain as they hit his face. But most of all, the disconcerting feelings of fear bubbling inside of his stomach.

He was afraid. And filled with hate.

The reincarnation of Buu began to squeeze his teeth together viciously. After all of this time, the pain was still fresh. He remembered the scene like it was yesterday. He envisioned the silent shock of the Z warriors, Goku's cry of pain before his life was ended with a low gurgle, and the wet clap of his body slamming lifelessy into the mud. J'erah had killed his mentor, right before his very eyes. Ubuu had heard it said before that time heals all wounds. So did vengeance. And Goku would have his. It took everything that the fighter had to stay exactly where he was- he would wipe that god awful smirk from J'erah's face...

_Calm yourself_. His own voice within. _Now._ He suddenly took a deep breath, filling up his lungs with oxygen, and holding it there. The anger was fading slowly...

Ubuu released the air, and sighed audibly. That was the quickest that he had been overtaken by rage in his life. Usually, it was a gradual progression, where an end event had to break him before he lost all resolve. Here, his madness had nearly occurred after just a few moments. Apparently, this long forgotten foe had awoken a righteous indignation buried within....

The leader of the resistance had never encountered J'erah since that fateful day- it was better that way. The Galactic was no doubt still much stronger than him, even after all of his training. Ubuu would rather them not meet until he was sure he could finish the job right. Goku and Gohan's legacies demanded that much. But until then, he knew that he would give anything for just one shot at the monster...

Suddenly, the applause of the public around him threw his train of thought off track. A Galactic official was straightening his uniform, and approaching the podium. The announcement was about to begin.

Ubuu reached for his earpiece. "Look alive, robots." He knew they hated the particular nickname, but it sure had its way of getting their attention. "And remember, robot _is_ a term of endearment," he quoted their age-old inside joke.

"I'm on it," 17 responded, all business now. Ubuu could hear the whirring hum of the KI rifle underway in the background of the fuzzy reception. The sniper began to mumble incoherently; the sign that his innate hunter's instinct had taken over yet again.

"Speak your speech, I pray thee..."

--------

"And so it begins," J'erah muttered to himself, a slight smirk written across his face. "How do you feel, doctor?" He cast his piercing gaze upon the younger scientist, Dr. Derhat, who was shuffling his feet nervously back and forth. He was a bit of a wiry fellow, his black disheveled hair coming down upon his blue face like a child's doll. The small wire-rimmed glasses he wore continued to slip from the bridge of his nose. As always, he was dressed in his labcoat. Hard to believe that he was one of the more brilliant and becoming minds that the universe had to offer.

"I feel good," he responded, not sounding like it. "I'm not too good in front of crowds. The last time I gave any kind of speech, I kept bumbling around foolishly, and-"

"I don't really care to know," J'erah yawned. "I was being polite." He rolled his eyes and waited, as Senator Fergus was approaching the podium. He began to run the end of his finger to trace the scar on the right side of his face slowly... The evil Galactic could feel someone out there, watching him right this instant. It was a rather intriguing feeling. He let his eyes skim over the crowd, attempting to make some kind of contact with anyone he could. None dared to look at him. He didn't blame them.

If he was the one setting up an assassination attempt, he would avoid eye contact, too. The only question was: Which one out here would be the assailant?

J'erah knew that he was putting Dr. Derhat's life on the line, but it didnt really make much of a difference to him. The scientist was valuable to their society, yes; but right now, he cared more about drawing forth and crushing the members of the Wayward. In the long run of things, that would be more invaluable than any single visionary, genius or not. This was war- there were going to be casualties.

The young intellect was under the supposition that this meeting was an announcement in which he would present the new Centurion models that he had designed and programmed to be far superior to their predecessors. That was only half true. While that indeed was what he was going to introduce to the crowd, its purpose was actually unknown to him: providing bait for the resistance. J'erah smiled. They were sure to bite. Now, he could only watch and wait.

"...I gladly present to you today," Fergus continued his monotonous drone into the microphone. J'erah sat up slightly. Had the Senator already began? Ha. He had hardly noticed. Fergus's voice was a mixture between a low hum, and a hollow resonance that was sure to bore even the most attentive viewer to a doze. Elites included. "Dr. Derhat!"

The public gave their brief applause, as the young scientist made his way forward ever-so-timidly. Databoard in hand, he stepped to the microphone, and it made a brief squeal of disapproval. He reered his head back, and put his finger in his ear while it continued to make the high pitched squeak. The crowd followed suit. A second or two of screeching ensued, and finally died down. Only the sound of the now harshening rain remained. He leaned forward and began, after making sure that it was safe to do so.

"Good morning."

-------

"Indeed."

17 flexed his fingers, rubbing them back and forth over the trigger as he gazed below. He scanned the stage, letting the scope run over each figure seated along the back. The android rested on the one known as J'erah. This would be the perfect opportunity to take him...

But he needed to go for the scientist first. The man with the knowledge in his brain to release the Centurions, machines of death, had to be stopped. And he would die at 17's hand.

A small smile formed across his lips. It had been awhile since he had felt any kind of rush similar to this. It was a waiting game, an endless dance that was only satiated when he finally released the trigger.

The 17th floor of the IS (InterStellar) Bank proved to be an ideal observation point for the android. He had arrived there the previous night, and drilled holes into the ceiling with sealed weights above that would be enough to holster his biomechanically enhanced frame. It was a sling that rested uncomfortably across his buttocks and groin, branching off in two sections that cradled his shoulders, and then raced to the ceiling. From this vantage point, he had placed a small hole large enough for the barrel of the KI rifle to ease into just above the window. For any human, hanging upside down for an extended period of time would have caused a dangerous amount of blood to be rushed to the brain. But for him, it was different. He enjoyed the challenge.

He used his feet to push himself forward a few inches, and angled his body slightly so that the scope was more in line with the angle of the viewport rim- that way no one from below could see it. Rotating the electronic scope one hundred and eighty degrees, the small screen before his eye flipped upside down, and provided him with a "normal" image that would be easier to aim with. He didn't necessarily need it, but he loved making use of the various bonuses at his disposal. His hair was pulled behind his head in a small pony tail so that it would not get in his way. Below him, an old cup of coffee sat on the metallic deskframe of the office he was residing in. During the night, he had spent his free time heating up the liquid with ki, until the steam of the aroma flowed into his nostrils. After that, he would wait for it to die down, and then proceeded to do it once more.

Getting into the building hadn't been much of a problem. It was more of a waiting game, really. He and 18, dressed as lift mechanics, entered the lift chute to perform their various touch-ups on the building's system. 17 much prefered the new system of floor transportation in comparison to the elevators of older times. The lifts were much more energy efficient, and a hell of a lot faster. Once inside the chute, the androids had raced their way to the bottom, and cleared out a small tunnel that ran below into the ancient subway system. Waiting underneath a pile of "rubble" was a small speedy transport that would take him to the next rendezvous point. Sure, he could blast his way out of there- but he wanted to live through this. After arranging the escape, they negotiated 17 into a small crevice near the seventeeth floor. He particularly liked the pun. On her way down, 18 "accidentally" removed the wire that operated the company motion detectors at night. It would be a few days before they even noticed. Once the lights were out, the enhanced human made his way through the offices, and found the perfect spot for a snipe.

The coffee smell was growing faint again. Outside, the rain drummed in a gentle _pat, pat, pat_ on the viewport frame. Each droplet slid down with agonizing slowness, magnified a thousandfold in the scope. Though he normally didn't appreciate such details, the android raised an eyebrow as he observed the water molecule. Through this filter, he could find beauty, and actually appreciate it. Maybe he wasn't so much of a robot as he thought...

"All charged?" 18's voice sounded amplified in his earpiece. He jumped in his place, and nearly dropped the gun.

"Please don't do that, I'm concentrating," 17 growled.

She chuckled. "Just asking, brother dear." He grumbled a few curses, and looked down at the gun sidearm holstered at his hip. It was another KI sidearm, with a small input device running from it into his arm. Through various outputs of research, 18 had actually discovered a small power outlet within their own designs, and rigged up a handy little trick that she had thought up herself: using their nearly limitless artificial ki reservoir to allow the sidearms to tap into. That way, they didn't need recharging, and could actually fire off rounds at higher speeds. It was very convenient. He had to give credit where credit was due...

"He just did it," Ubuu's voice informed them. A sound of applause was lightly roaring from below. 17 peered back through the scope to find that the crowd was cheering, and the scientist was trying to calm them down.

"Did what?" He rotated his body slightly, and pulled the gun close to his shoulder.

"Announced." The warrior's voice was very light; the sound of the clapping and shouting around him was nearly deafening in comparison. "Centurions to start production in a few weeks. Ki and possibly- according to our sources- artificial ki tracking..."

17 narrowed his gaze. "Is that possible?"

"Apparently so," 18 breathed quietly. She was probably near the entrance of the building. For some odd reason, she liked her whereabouts to be a secret. "Elton patched me some files that show that they think they're on to an actual device that could actually locate the production of artificial ki... But he didn't mention that in his speech..."

17 was puzzled. "Wait. They think?"

"Sounds iffy," Ubuu noted. "Something like that I think he would want to broadcast."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too." 18 sounded a little suspicious herself.

Either way, 17 knew that a contraption that could track them did not fare well for either of the two rebels. It had to stop with the scientist. "Alright, this guy's toast." He lowered his aim, bringing the scope on the villain's magnified forehead. He could see every little pore, the beads of perspiration that conveyed a phobia of speaking in public. Typical lab rat. The android swung the crosshairs to a small pimple in the center of his blue frontal skull bone...

"Wait," a voice rang through the other end of the earpiece. 17's finger was inching the trigger back...

"Ubuu, I'm kind of busy killing something right now."

"I think it's a set up, we need to back out," Ubuu sounded urgent.

"Oh?" He squeezed the trigger slightly, felt the mechanical click that told him he was on the edge of the firing threshold. "Make your point, I'm liking him less and less..."

"That's exactly what they want you to do... I suddenly don't like this anymore."

"17, I think Ubuu's right," 18 chimed. "Notice the lack of security?"

He had noticed it, actually. Cared? No. Right now, all that mattered was wiping Derhat out before he found a way to do the same to them. Even if it _was_ a set up, he could still execute the good doctor, and maybe even J'erah... It was worth a shot.

At the edge of his vision with the eye that was not focused on the scope, he could see the darkened warrior retreating back slowly through the crowd. He was being very discreet. The rain was louder now.

Ubuu came in his earpiece again. "17, listen to me. I think that Derhat didn't mention the artificial ki trackers in his speech because _they don't exist_. They know we have hackers snooping around, so they plant some false ideas in our head, hoping that we would show up to teach them a lesson. They know that the "non-ki" bandits are what's really giving us our leg up on the competition... He's the lure, 17."

"Probably doesn't even know it, either," 18 threw in her own opinion. 17's finger held its position.

"So you're saying he still doesn't deserve to die, device or not? I don't buy that. These bastards killed your husband and daughter, 18." He was met with silence on the other end.

"17..." Ubuu was angry now.

"17's out," the android stated. "Leave a message." He clicked off his earpiece.

And pulled the trigger.


	16. Chapter 15

Lightening crackled. And calamity struck.

It was almost like slow motion. From the seventeeth floor of the IS Bank, a beam of sharp yellow ki raced at an angle towards Dr. Derhat. When it exited from the barrel of the rifle, the force blew out chunks of concrete, as well as the viewport frame below it to fly crashing to the ground. The sound of shattering glass and cries of terror filled the square as the blast darted to its target.

Only to stop in midair. The volatile charge suddenly trembled violently, grew highly unstable, and then arched into the sky, detonating with a force that rattled the streets below. The golden light sent several waves to the buildings underneath, smashing their rooftops succinctly. Showers of debris joined the now pouring rain, and the crowd began to scatter wildly, screaming and shouting at the top of their lungs while attempting to find cover.

On the stage, Dr. Derhat was guarding his face from the light that shone all around. His eyes searched the crowd and found the trenchcoated figure who had saved his life and stopped the projectile. Before he could offer any thanks, the scientist was quickly tackled by two Galactic soldiers, who performed a fireman-carry to rush him out of the area. The backrow of officials were all shielding their heads, as several more eruptions of super-charged ki began to burst forth from the now gaping hole in the side of the bank. They danced around the stage, having been frantically fired, and only one figure remained. J'erah. The last shot halted before his face as if in utter recoil at his power. He sneered, and then batted it aside.

Suddenly, a slew of soldiers flooded the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, leaping towards the IS Bank with weapons aimed. They looked to 17 like a pack of dogs, with their teeth bared and faces snarling.

They would die like dogs, then.

Still in his sling, he opened fire like there was no tomorrow. The ki shots found their first three targets, particularly brutish looking soldiers on the frontline. They shouted as the beams pierced through them, and exploded on impact. And then, panic set in. The other grunts unleashed a volley of gunfire and ki blasts alike, whipping all around the android. He grabbed a hold of the lever on the sling, released it, and felt his body thump to the desk, which crumpled under his weight to the floor, as the enemies raced overhead. One of them got his neck caught on the cord, and spun sideways into the next office; two more failed to stop, careening like pinballs through the floor.

Not wasting any time, 17 leaped to his feet, connecting a shot with another of his pursuers just as he entered the open hole that was once a wall. The enhanced figure hopped to the side, avoiding several more attackers, and then thrust his body straight up to the 18th floor. He knew that they would be coming right on his heels, and started to pull the trigger rapidly, decimating the floor below him until it collapsed on top of the others. He quickly released himself from his sling, and then ran to the lift chute. Not wanting to delay the escape any longer, he dived through the metallic doors, and let his body freefall to the bottom. He passed right through the upward-moving lift, which scared the hell out of a few workers inside, and fell with a dusty thud to the tunnel system below. After several painful bounces, the android gripped his fingers in the concrete, and pulled himself up. The shooting numbness in his left arm made sure to remind him of what a stupid choice he had made. He shook it off. There wasn't much time to beat himself up. The Galactics would take care of that.

As if on cue, the muffled shoutings of soldiers could be heard coursing through the lift chute. Hopefully, the lift would block their view. Unless they decided to move it... Without warning, the whole entire structure crashed through the floor in the same path as he had, but left a much wider gash. The shadow of many large beings was cast down through the foggy light. They were on their way.

17 hurriedly cleared off the getaway craft, hopping inside. Within a second, he had it started, and was spurting through the tunnel system. Behind him, he could hear the futile attempts of the Galactics to take him out, echoing across the old cavern walls to meet his ears. Their curses of anger joined the sound of his pounding heart. Now, he just had to get to 18. Hopefully, her and Ubuu were alright.

-------

The dark warrior lowered his hand, staring through the empty square to lock eyes with J'erah. He had stopped the blast headed for Dr. Derhat, and J'erah had stopped the one aimed at himself with not so much as a flinch. Silence filled the dead wind, and the rain splashed in small puddles around them. Ubuu's cap had come off somewhere in the chaos, and he could feel his black hair drooping with water over the front of his head. It ran in streams down his face, the cold a sharp contrast to the warmth of anger flooding him.

It appeared he would get his wish early.

"You didn't have to stop it," J'erah spoke with authority, a look of eerie serenity shrouding his eyes. His arms were held behind his back, his massive frame exemplified in the stance. Ubuu couldn't help but shudder. It was downright creepy. "It didn't matter much if he died or not."

Ubuu observed the Elite before him carefully. "I see you still have the scar that Goku gave you." Reflexively, dead muscle tissue twitched beneath the mark. He smirked. It was good to try to gain whatever ground he could before a fight actually took place. It was just as important as the battle itself.

Other than the brief tinge of fury, J'erah did nothing else that showed the comment to have affected him. "I see that you share his foolishness." He began to walk forward, boots clamoring noisily on the stage floor. The sound reverberated to the outlying buildings, and then swooped back in to the center of the square. A new demeanor suddenly took place of his serene one. A smile eased across his lips. "It's taking everything you have not to thrash me, isn't it? How long have you wanted to kill me, the way I killed all of your friends?"

The fighter stood paralyzed with hatred- and shock. Were his feelings that transparent? Or was J'erah not only powerful, but incredibly brilliant as well? It was hard to believe that someone so monstrous could be so intelligent. The cracking of his knuckles began again.

"Do you do that when you get nervous? Or when you hate?" The Galactic paused. "Popping your bones like that, I mean. Goku would clench his fists- before I broke them."

Ubuu couldn't take this anymore. Unexpectedly, he squared his legs, planting them firmly in the ground, and ignited his aura. The wet trenchcoat on his back was torn apart, and the rain drops fizzled and evaporated as they approached him. He couldn't kill him, but he would make this bastard hurt.

J'erah ran a hand through his short, matted gray hair. His yellow eyes narrowed on the warrior, and his smile never faded. "You just don't get it, do you? Everything you hope for, everything you're trying to accomplish will _fail_. And you will serve us, just as the rest of the humans do." He brought his arms to his side, and shook his head. "There is nothing special about you."

The concrete was breaking up around Ubuu now. The fury had overtaken the fear. He could feel the limits of his own power being surpassed within himself. It had been awhile since he had really needed to unearth everything he had- but now, the situation called for drastic measures. Lifting his head to the sky, he shouted, and pulled up the wellspring of strength that he knew he had always held. J'erah seemed taken back a bit, but his smug exterior remained. The Wayward leader hoped that he was bluffing.

"You can't kill the spirit of the oppressed," Ubuu spat. "We _will_ bring your empire burning to the ground. And it starts with you."

J'erah looked cold. "Take your best shot."

He didn't even hesitate. As soon as the words had left the Galactic's mouth, Ubuu brought his hands forward. He closed his right palm over his left, using his thumbs to make a small triangle.

"Demon's Eye!!!"

The powerful surgence of white-hot ki slammed into J'erah instantly, massacring the decorative stage where he was positioned. Ubuu had developed the attack in tribute to Tien- it was actually a more powerful, yet efficient, version of the Kikoho. Its effects were disastrous to the immediate vicinity. The explosion roared upwards, tearing apart the podium and concrete pillars. Shattered pieces of rock and metal alike flipped away, and the tremors of power caused the fighter to slide backwards in the aftermath.

The smoke hovered in place, dissipating ever-so-slowly. The reincarnation of the Demon- Majin Buu- held his hands in place, peering through the "eye" that his thumbs made, alert to any kind of movement. He found it.

Shifting unnaturally, the cloud of fog suddenly swirled in on itself, and then puffed outwards, disappearing almost instantly. Standing in its wake was J'erah. He began to pace forward.

"I don't like to attack through the smoke," he taunted. "I'd rather my opponent see me coming- so they understand full well how _helpless they really are_." Speaking the last words with a horrific hiss, he brought his hand back, his fingers curved as if holding a ball. Almost too fast for the eye to see, his arm shot forward, and a small dust cloud rose up from the ground- coming at breakneck speed towards Ubuu.

"What on Earth..."

The wave of invisible ki plowed into his left shoulder, exploding and vaulting him backwards to slide on the pavement. The landing scraped his right arm painfully, and he fought against the burning. What the heck was that? In all of his years, the most Ubuu had been able to do with the invisible force of ki was move things back, but never concentrate it into a high range powerful attack- especially so effortlessly.

"Surprised?"

J'erah launched his hands forward again, several times in succession. Futilely, the hero of Earth tried to defend himself. The first throw blew up against his right forearm, the second against his left leg, and the third directly in his gut. It doubled him over immediately, and he was nailed to the muddy concrete. The Elite began to cackle, his booming voice threatening to tear apart the city itself, as the thunder in the distance joined him in a mighty chorus. Ubuu grit his teeth, and started in a hurried sprint towards him. He still had a trick or two left.

The Galactic seemed impressed. He reared back once more, and prepared to throw yet another sweep of energy...

At the last possible instant, Ubuu focused on the area immediately around his opponent, and erected a pink barrier just beyond him. A face of surprise lit up on J'erah, but it was too late. His own attack clobbered potently with the colored shield, igniting against himself. The Wayward continued in his sprint, and cupped his hands back behind him. He leaped into the air, and a familiar orb of blue energy began to swirl in his palms...

As the smoke cleared, Ubuu found himself only a meter or so away, and J'erah charging an attack of his own...

"_Haaaa!!_"

"_Four Corners!!_"

As the kamehameha ripped its way towards the devilish galactic, four equally-sized blue-white blasts poured from his own hands, and the two rivaling ki assaults met dead-on in the small space between them. Ubuu decided not to press his luck, and relented. As the opposing force met his own, he threw it upwards, but the sheer girth behind it pushed his torso back and his feet forward. He landed right next to his enemy, who promptly turned and delivered a bone-crunching kick into his ribs.

The prodigy of Goku felt his entire body buckle around J'erah's foot, and then eject away. He flipped uncontrollably and smashed through the wreckage of the once glorious stage. One of the metal poles cracked the bone of his kneecap. As he landed, thunder rippled through the heavens, reminding him of the rain that was even now mixing with his blood to flow down the streets. In the distance, the sounds of gunfire and shouting could be heard... He wondered if the androids were okay. His thoughts drifted to the Ward, and to all of the people counting on him. He had to go on... Despite the agony, he was in a fighting stance once more, searching wildly for the Galactic. Without warning, J'erah zanzokened right next to him, throwing a punch his way. Ubuu thrust the blow off with his right arm, and attempted to land a punch of his own. J'erah was right on top of it, moving his left arm in a blur to swat away the human's. Their eyes locked, and they stood motionless, arms holding one another frozen.

"I'll have to admit," J'erah breathed hesitantly. "You are stronger than your teacher was... but not me. I've barely even tapped into my power."

"We'll see about that."

They bounded back, and then rushed together again. Ubuu dodged an abrupt kick from J'erah, falling to balance on his left hand, and plant his foot against his contender's chest. As he stumbled, the human was moving towards him. He pulled his arm back and hurled a ball of yellow ki at the retreating alien, never halting in his pursuit. A small barrier flashed just before impact, and the explosion clouded his vision. Ubuu continued the attack, sending another ki blast the Elite's way, who was still hovering rearwards. Just as before, another barrier deflected the explosion, and the two were left chasing one another, with J'erah facing him and flying the opposite direction. Using his right hand, Ubuu fired yet again, returning the same previous result.

Good. As quickly as possible, he raised his right arm, three fingers in the air. A small glowing white orb of celestial energy formed above his outstretched digits. Dropping his hand to waist level, Ubuu shoved the ball towards the Galactic...

"Tri-Beam!!"

As expected, the ki shield found its way up, supposedly avoiding the onslaught. It disappeared, and Ubuu couldn't help but smile. The Tri-Beam was designed to withstand one impact, and then branch into three separate discharges that looped back onto the original target. They proved to be very destructive. J'erah was about to find out first hand.

The general grunted a brief curse as the three lights found their way to his body, enveloping his musculature with the forceful detonations. Ubuu slid to a grinding stop and jumped to the side as J'erah's own return volley of ki came from the smoke. He had done just what the monster wanted. The dark warrior felt the other's fist corkscrew against his spine, impaling his back around it as he winced in pain. Suddenly, an energy eruption found its way through the alien's palm.

As Ubuu's body sailed away, he was hoping that it was over, at least for the moment. His wishes proved to be mislead, however, as he felt the strong blue hand grip his hair, and fly him face first directly through the pavement of the city. Together, the two fighters obliterated the street top, and collapsed through to the dank sewers below.

Above him, Ubuu could hear the thudding of the rain, and the trickling of the water as it coursed down the opening that they had left. The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth. In spite of the aching, the dust he had landed in was tickling his nose. Strong footsteps from behind told him that this was far from over.

Ubuu made up his mind. If he lived through this, he was going to kick the crap out of 17.


	17. Chapter 16

**Dragonball: Universe **

-------

For the most part, the soldiers of the Galactic empire were organized, calculating, and coolly operating under pressure. They struck with efficiency, moved with tactical brilliance, and eliminated their targets with a clean sweep. For the most part. Confusion was always a good countermeasure.

18 smiled. That was what she specialized in.

For the third time, she hurled yet another volatilely charged thrust of ki down on the mobilizing ground forces. Just before the explosion hit, she somersaulted her way across the street to a distant rooftop. After a smashing of glass, and a blinding outburst of light, she crashed through the thin concrete roof layer. The rumble of the earth could be felt just as her feet met the floor. That should have been the last of them...

Without turning around, she backflipped. The trajectory sent her out of the structure, and the android whipped her arms out to slow her decent through the smoke. The smell of burning rubble hit her nostrils, the dust flowing freely through her wildly flapping blonde hair. Reaching out with her hearing, she could make out the shuffling of injured feet. With a quick flicker of the wrist, she had out her KI sidearm, still free falling through the foggy haze. If history taught her anything, it was that there was nothing worse than an injured Galactic. They fought like rabid dogs, frothing mouth and all. Time to put them to sleep.

The sudden rush of clear air told her that she was at ground level. Pushing outward with her artificial ki, she slowed herself to a stop just as the soles of her boots hit the street. A quick glance decided the competency of her confusionary demonstrations... Before, there had been twenty of the monsters; now, there were about half that many, all pissed as hell, with itchy trigger fingers no doubt. The sound of landing startled the survivors, and they hurriedly turned their collective gaze at her. There was a moment of sinking realization, followed by a scrambling for lost weaponry...

And then it began.

Wasting no time, the android launched herself to the left, narrowly dodging the first salvo as it passed underneath her. The two that posed the immediate threat were those closest to her- she decided to remedy the situation. Connecting with the ground gracefully, the creation of Dr. Gero leaped once more to a nearby vehicle, effectively placing the object between her and her attackers. As the gunfire struck its side, she lifted her own KI sidearm, releasing several return shots their way over the top. The Galactics did just what she wanted: ducked. Just as their heads lowered, she darted forward. With a powerful right foot, the automobile was instantly delivered against the two injured soldiers, and ignited upon impact. Two down.

The heat that was forced outward from the explosion passed across her face, and she blinked back the sting of the dust against her eyes. A suppressed wail met 18's ears with the shockwave, but she didn't pay it mind. It was almost like music.

"Good," she whispered. "Burn."

The low whirring of the gun reminded the user it was still receiving power. It was a high pitched tone, a pleasant hum that usually meant adrenaline and victory. Another grin took a hold of her lips. Danger or not, this was too much fun.

She zanzokened through the black ashy smoke, appearing just in front of the remaining aliens. Through her grueling hours of research on the species, 18 had discovered that while the Galactic male sexual organs were drastically different from that of humans or saiyajins, they could be found in the same location. With bone-crunching force, the vicious fighter drove her knee up into the cup of her closest enemy, eliciting a violent eruption of gurgling from his throat. Knowing that the vomit was going to follow, she reached up with lightning-fast reactions, and shut the faceplate of his helmet. Just as she did so, the front splattered with the alien's breakfast from the inside. Another blow to his stomach sent him to collide with his comrades. The distraction of the others having to jump away from the soldier-turned-projectile gave 18 the opening that she had hoped for.

The android made a hop into the center of the group. There were five left standing: two on the left, and three on the right. After briefly scanning the possibilities in her mind, she made the move right, her target being a particularly brawny looking character in the middle of the three. He made an attempt to raise his rifle, but it was too late. Before he even had a chance to scream, the toe of her boot was breaking the bone of his knee, followed by a rapid spinning kick that cracked his spine. 18 grabbed onto his falling body, pulling it close to shield her from the incoming pulser fire. It ripped into him, and he shrieked like an injured jackal. Feeling somewhat merciful, the biomechanically enhanced being thrust her weapon against his back, and fired several rounds out through his torso at the remaining soldiers. Two of her shots slammed against one of the grunts to her left, spinning him to the ground. The stray blasts were enough to send his friends to take cover amidst the burning skeletons of demolished automobiles.

"Vomit" was still rolling around on the concrete from his earlier injury, the others having freed themselves of his weight. They began to lift their weapons, but 18 was faster. After two squeezes of the trigger, it was done.

Simultaneously, a hail of energy bolts began to race from the scattered rubble of the street scene. The android erected a weak ki shield, sprinting towards the fighters that were now struggling for their lives. One of them lunged out of his hiding spot at her, receiving a silencing shot to the chest for his efforts. The final three released a cry of fury at his death, and revealed themselves to her as well. Converging on 18 almost instantly, the Galactics began to abandon the KI's, and in their rage tried to take her out through hand-to-hand combat. The first she defeated with a powerful punch to the ribcage, the second fell after a gunshot, and the third collapsed due to the hole left in his gut by her elbow. The last of them finally hit the concrete.

18 sighed, content with her victory, yet disappointed that there were no more to humiliate. Unless... She turned, throwing her eyes like a fishing net to rest on "vomit". He was still writhing in pain, but trying futilely to raise his messy faceplate nonetheless. Sidearm in hand, she marched towards him. A moment later, he had the vision shield up- only to find the barrel of a ki-enhanced energy weapon fixed on his nose. His eyes widened.

"Hello," she greeted him cheerily. She pulled the trigger, and it was done. Normally, she probably would have allowed him to go tell the rest of the aliens how badly they had been beaten, but in an escape situation like this, survivors meant pursuers. And they were coming out of the woodwork. Overhead, two Slashers zipped by, and the distant sound of Galactic sirens was screeching its way through the canyon of buildings.

18 checked her watch. 11:02. 17 should be arriving any time now... The sooner the better; she had some choice words for the boy...

Suddenly, the timbre of crashing stone flooded her ears. She pivoted to witness her brother and the escape vehicle come barreling up the stairs of an abandoned subway entrance, followed by a plume of dusty smoke. Her counterpart slid to a halt in front of her, breathing heavily. The sight was almost amusing: from head to toe, he was covered in dirt, and his hair was a tangled mess; his rifle was slung across his shoulder.

"Hi," 18 said dryly. "My name is 17, and I'm a pretentious, cocky, actor-of-impulse. Guess who I am?"

"Shutup," he countered, obviously ready for this verbal assault. "It would have hit him."

"And a great amount of good that would have done for us." She shifted her body weight to one leg.

17 was irritated because he knew she was right. He hated it when she was right. He stirred nervously. "Look, are you coming or not?"

"I haven't decided- promise you won't shoot me."

"Oh, for Kami's-" He rolled his eyes. "How about we pretend for just an _instant_ that we are on intergalactic 'wanted' lists, and that aliens are looking for us right now...." His face was as animated as she had ever seen it. "And that those aliens- hypothetically speaking- want to kill us. Can we pretend like that?" The sirens were closer now. After a moment of tense silence, 18 holstered her weapon, and climbed on board the speedcraft, grabbing a hold of 17 for support.

"Say it."

He started up the jets as he spoke. "Fine. Point."

"I want three points."

"Three or three hundred, it doesn't really matter... I'm history when Ubuu gets a hold of me."

With that, they were off, soaring rapidly past the blurred images of buildings on either side of them. Through a subtle movement of the steering mechanism, 17 guided them back into the subway system, making his way through the abandoned web of old with ease. Soon, they would come to the series of tunnels that marked the path to the "Ward." 18 closed her eyes against the stinging wind, and thought of Ubuu. She hoped he was alright...

-------

The rain had stopped for some time. The beating had not.

"You know," J'erah mused aloud. "I would have hoped that the legacy of Goku would produce a much more worthy opponent- you are nothing." Ubuu felt a fist plow against his side for what must have been the hundredth time. And for what must have been the thousandth time, his muscles tightened with the reflex of pain.

As soon as his body slid in the mud, he was up, returning at J'erah with renewed spirit. He had been drawing his ki in...

The blast that erupted from his hands plowed into the General's frame, sending his person up out of the sewers, and into the streets. Ubuu followed, fists raised and mind focused. The two titans came together with a rattling force, and sent a widening crack to shoot through the concrete like a vein.

"Don't count me out just yet," the Wayward spoke through a crooked grin. J'erah met his stare with a smile of his own.

"That's what I like to see." Without warning, he took a hold of Ubuu's wrist, twisted it, and wrenched upward. The sudden movement lifted him from his feet and into the air, forearm still clutched by his attacker's steel grip. The Galactic pulled back his other fist...

Before he could strike, however, Ubuu reached around with his free hand to grasp J'erah's own arm. With a hefty tug, he pulled his body from its place in the air to plant a headbutt directly into his opponent. He felt the crack of skin on the other, and heard the quiet curse as the pain shot through his face. When the elder stumbled back, the dark warrior rotated his body in midflight, and commissioned his boot to a spot on the alien's chest. His feet hit the ground, and he followed his onslaught with a twirling double kick that connected first against the gut, and ended with a kick to the skull that drove him to his knees. J'erah lifted his eyes to link with Ubuu's just as the hero of Earth threw an explosive blast of yellow energy against his temple.

Not wanting to lose any second, Ubuu was through the smoke in no time flat, finding his enemy waiting on the other side. J'erah had been expecting him, and showed him as much with a series of fists that knocked him senseless. As he impacted the concrete, he let out a breath he did not realise he had been holding.

"You were able to catch me by surprise," J'erah commented. He wiped the blood from his forehead, and smirked. "You broke first blood."

"It was my pleasure."

Ubuu stood shakily, running through the mental tricks that Goku had shown him about letting ki enhance one's senses. Over the years, he had learned to develop this ability to not only sensory enhancement, but to a numbing of sensation and a tautening of strength. It made the ache of battle subside rather quickly, increasing his threshold for pain and overall stamina in dramatic amounts. He drew in the energy around him, and allowed it to enter into him freely. Fighting was easier this way- he may not have the strength, but he would certainly have the speed he needed. The technique was not quite mastered, but he could keep it up for several minutes if he had to. Hopefully, that would be enough...

"Hmm..." J'erah mock-sniffed at the air. His yellow eyes took on a haunting intuitive glaze. "Preparing for something?"

Ubuu tried not to let the question faze him. Could he really sense that? "Should I be?"

"That depends on whether I decide to try or not." He displayed a wicked grin. It sent a quake of terror down Ubuu's frame- he was a monster.

"You're bluffing," he sneered. "Didn't seem to be doing so hot when I got the jump on you."

J'erah chuckled, and lowered his voice gravely. "Didn't I?"

Unexpectedly, he was on the offensive, zanzokening behind Ubuu to throw a shattering punch against him. As his body was sprawled away, he regained control, and decided to use his speed to his advantage. With technique that obviously surprised his combatant, the warrior flew back to plant a volley of attacks. He shoved outwards with his palms against J'erah's torso, knocking him rearward. Without the aid of zanzoken, he zipped to the devilish figure's side, and met the tumble with a well placed elbow. Swinging his leg in a sweeping motion, he knocked the other's feet from under him, and moved atop the alien to provide a potent shower of ki blasts upon his defenseless body.

Having surprising amounts of agility of his own, J'erah pivoted and turned before he hit the ground, rolling and deflecting several of the blasts as they detonated around him. He flipped away, and thrust his right arm in a wide arc.

"Wall!" Ubuu shouted as he hopped back. The invisible projectile slammed against a vertical extension of ki that rose in front of the Wayward leader at the last possible instant. It hummed with energy as the heat coruscated from its surface. Suddenly, J'erah materialised at his side, arm held back...

Ubuu was away in an instant, pulling up another defensive barrier of ki just before him. At that moment, J'erah began to zanzoken around the square at random. He appeared on all sides, launching wave after wave of invisible force. It took all of his concentration for the progeny of Goku to manuever his way around the area at such high speeds, throwing up walls of energy around him as he danced in and out of the mini-explosions of ki. His body was darting to and fro, stepping between stray blasts, as J'erah continued to hurl them down from all about him. He continued the process, waiting for the right moment. Then it happened.

The Galactic warlord appeared directly above him, just as the Earthen contender pushed a barrier in a straight line upwards from the ground. It tore towards J'erah, who barely managed to dodge it before it sliced a tiny sharp cut in his left arm. Ubuu raised his arms, spraying several more of the same attack at the conqueror, who in turn dodged them just as he himself had. He was so fast... The dark fighter made every attempt to catch him off guard, to observe his pattern so that he could break it...

And then Ubuu saw something that terrified him. Amidst the potentially life threatening torrents of ki coming at him, there was a certain confidence in J'erah's cold, knowing eyes. There was a life there that frightened and confused the young man. It wasn't pride, it wasn't arrogance, it was something much worse: amusement. It was all a game to him. And it was then that he feared him more than ever.

Just at that moment, an unimaginable amount of agony struck Ubuu in the abdomen, and he was thrown from his feet face-down into the broken stone below him. What the hell was that? He lifted his head to search... Across the way stood the killer of his mentor, perfectly motionless save for the short gray hair that was flowing gently with the wind. It was a sharp contrast to the storm that raged within the being's soul. His lopsided smile contorted the scar on his visage, gave him the testimony of so many untold and unspeakable evils committed.

"Ah, and now you are thoroughly confused," J'erah said poignantly.

Ubuu was trying to lift himself to his feet once again. He made a grab for the energy around him, but his mind wasn't focusing. The pain was still racking his stomach. "What was that?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"What?" the other replied with a tone of mock concern. "_This_?"

He threw out a single fist, and though he was well over ten meters away, a thunderclap of power collided with Ubuu's face, flipping him backwards to land with a hard _thud_. He coughed violently, and rolled over in the rubble. The salty taste of blood was rapidly filling his mouth, and the stench of the sewers had managed to meander into his nostrils. It made him sick to the thought. His head was spinning...

"You're probably wondering why I didn't do this earlier," the Galactic growled. "I mean- if I have a technique that could pulverize my opponents, why not do it and get it over with?" He moved forward slowly, letting his boots resound with echo against the buildings towering around them. He chuckled. "To me, it's more of a rush to let them think they have a chance first. I take a certain pleasure in watching the hope filter out of their eyes just before the horrible truth sets in. Yours was great- Goku's was priceless."

From his spot across the way, J'erah made a kicking motion with his foot, and Ubuu's body was rammed with the sensation of overwhelming throbbing again as he ejected into the air. On the ground, his opponent simply dropped his fist like a hammer, and, in the sky, the dark warrior's frame encountered the invisible manifestation of that action, acted out on him across the gap that lied between them. He was sent plummeting to the earth, and careened through the foundations of a building before contact with the hardness beneath.

Over the sound of the crumbling and falling destruction left in his wake, Ubuu could hear the shrill booming rumble that was J'erah's laugh. It filled the city with its grim inflection- and his own heart with despair. He struggled for breath, and tried desperately to put together a plan as the ki of the other grew nearer. He was still cackling like a madman.

Perhaps it would be the last sound Ubuu ever heard.


	18. Chapter 17

"_**Let me show you..."**_

_In a river of sensation, he was drowning. Just as before, Gokan felt the familiar overwhelming power rush over him. It coursed through him like nothing ever had, sweeping across his body, and passed athwart his eyes in a veil of vague recollection. After a flash of white, and the feeling of vertigo had passed, he tried to gain his bearings._

_He was there, but he wasn't there. The figure in the darkness was still gripping onto him firmly, refusing to release its hold. But in the light, there was a warmth that made him forget the hair-raising chill that he fought against. Something told him that the two were not the same. There was a definite distinction between the entities, but he could not grasp it. The blanket of white was descending... Once it crashed against him, everything slowed; a dull roar was filling his ears._

_Whispers. Two voices now. They were speaking in a tongue unknown, the accented tones of the dialects striking against his eardrums with a shrill ring. He cringed, and struggled for control. The whispers stopped._

"_Where am I?" Gokan asked. When his words did not echo, there was a rapid sinking feeling in his gut..._

"_**Everywhere." **__And then the presences left him._

_As the voice struck his soul, so did the blurred images... They were familiar, somehow. He tried to make some kind of sense of it all, focusing as hard as his young mind could manage on the moving figures. He was apart from the two entities that previously surrounded him- these visions were different. Trying to sift through the jumbled emotions, Gokan tried to figure out who exactly these two new visions represented. Rubble surrounded them, and stone structures were crumbling from the power that the larger exerted. Gokan concentrated on this one... Reaching out with his hand, he tried to touch him, wanted to feel his soul. After moving out amongst the vision, he made contact._

_And screamed._

_Never in his life had he actually felt the touch of evil. Much less the deep cold that lied within it. It was a thick burning cold that pierced him, and made him recoil in terror. Gokan attempted to catch his breath, hoping to fight against the vertigo that was hitting him again in waves. He had to find something else to focus on. The saiyajin youth looked around quickly, scanning with his eyes- the other figure was gone._

_With the realization came the next vision. There was the weaker of the two, ducking in alleys, trying to escape. The son of Gohan felt the strength inside of this one, wanted to do whatever he could to help. His thoughts were registering within the boy's mind, more emotions and pictures than anything else- it was difficult to keep track of them all. He began to reach forward once more, watched as the shadow tripped over a dormant trash can. The warrior tumbled and landed with a painful sounding thud. Suddenly, all of the thoughts became that of terror. He hurriedly stood, moving with a limp down the alleyway. He rounded the next corner, only to collide with the strong body of another figure, and a new emotion on top of the others..._

_Panic._

For what seemed like the millionth time in less nights, Gokan sat up in a cold sweat. Out of force of habit more than fear, he swiveled his body, reaching above him to make sure that there was indeed a bunk bed there. Still in Kale's ship. The humming of the engine a slight step behind his ragged breathing reminded him that he was finally awake.

He let go of a long sigh, and placed his head within his hands. The sketch. He needed to draw the pictures again... The saiyajin hissed as bare feet met with cold steel on the floor below, and he tip-toed his way to the small desk on the wall. He retrieved the folded sheet of paper once more, followed by a writing utensil. Closing his eyes, Gokan let his hand express his thoughts in ways that he wouldn't be able to normally. When he was finished he gazed upon what he had done. It still made no sense to him. Maybe it would someday...

His thoughts were knocked askew as footsteps rang in the hall behind him, causing him to jerk up straight when the door opened wide. The crack of light hit his vision, and silhouetted the figure in the doorway.

"Gokan?" Goten's voice. He stepped inside to make his way forward. "What are you doing up?"

Gokan tried to answer with something, but was still disoriented.

"Drawing, eh?" Goten smirked as he glanced at the scribbled lines on the page. "Didn't take you for an artist."

The boy let out a nervous chuckle. "It's nothing, really."

"What are you talking about?" his uncle peered forward in the dim light. "From here, that looks pretty good. Odd, but good. What is it?"

"In all honesty, I don't know." Gokan looked down, fidgeting slightly with the pen in his hand. He could feel the man's eyes on him, trying to read him... He supposed that came with his background of being a smuggler. One had to know who was feeding him crap, and who wasn't.

"Well, when you get a name for him," Goten said. "Be sure to let me know."

"Yeah," he replied quietly. The elder saiyajin stared at him for a moment longer, then moved to the light switch on the wall. With a quiet click, the bright rays filled the room, followed by a chorus of groaning from Vegeta and Boxers.

"Get up, guys." He winked at Gokan, and flashed the lights again. A pillow sailed across the room.

"I get the point!" Boxers shouted.

"If I knew how to use my ki..." Vegeta wasn't a morning person.

Goten smiled and grabbed a hold of the boy from his bed, hoisting him out with one arm. "Tough talk."

"You'll see. The first move I make up on my own is going to be for you."

"Oh really?" the man raised his eyebrow fractionally. The teen in his hands was trying to free himself, however futile the procedure proved to be.

"Yeah. It'll be called the crotch-assault. Guess what it does?"

Goten dropped him, and laughed. "All in due time. Get your stuff ready. We're here."

Boxers was still trying to move out of bed, mumbling to himself as he did so. "What stuff? I wasn't really expecting this vacation..." For the whole trip, he had complained about not having any of his belongings... If one could indeed consider what they were given at the institution "possessions".

Gokan turned to face his uncle. "Wait, what do you mean, 'we're here'?"

"Thorbos," Piccolo's gruff voice echoed from the corridor as he entered with clothing in hand. "We're about to land in a few minutes."

"Thorbos? The home of the Wayward?"

"Don't get too excited," Goten snorted. "It's a dump."

"This _dump_ will keep the Galactics out of our hair," Piccolo said dryly. "I suppose you know of a better hiding place..."

"Sarn wasn't too bad."

"And a lot of cover that gave you," the Namek brushed past the saiyajin, who let his eyes rest firmly on the other's back. After a flash of contempt, he turned and left the room. Gokan frowned, unsure of what to make of the situation. Perhaps he would ask Piccolo later...

Vegeta motioned towards the clothes in the elder's hands. "What are those?"

"Put them on," Piccolo ordered. He tossed the garments around the room. Before he even knew what hit him, Gokan felt the weight of the material knock him over from its force. He stumbled back a few steps and collided with the desk, watching as Vegeta and Boxers did the same; they tumbled helplessly to the floor.

"Are you out of your mind?!" the black haired twin was trying to stand up. The sharp contrast between the frustration on his face and the exertion of a motion as simple as rising would make any normal person bowl over in laughter. Not Piccolo- he was all business. Something told Gokan that this wasn't going to be quite the joyride they had always thought...

"These are your training clothes," Piccolo informed without the slightest rise of pitch in his voice. "Yes, they are weighted."

"Quick thinking, Sherlock," Boxers muttered from his spot on the floor. He was having less superiority over the weight than his brother. "Couldn't you have found something bulkier for us, Piccolo? I think I can move too freely in these."

"That can be arranged."

The lilac-haired teen mumbled something incoherent as he started to put the clothes on, jamming his limbs inside violently in a display of rebellion.

"I'm sure this will help in the long run," Gokan offered.

"Oh, shutup," Vegeta grumbled. He made a mock impression: "_I'm sure this will help in the long run..._"

A sudden hiss of air from outside told them they were making their descent. The saiyajins made brief eye contact with one another, the realisation sinking in fast that this was actually happening. They all seemed to know that this moment marked the end of their heritage as earthlings, and started everything over...

Gokan stirred. "When do we start?" The craft jolted with landing.

"Passengers, this is your captain speaking..." Kale's voice over the comm. "Please place all saiyajins in tow-away bags, if they've not already been vented into the vacuum of hyperspace..."

The Namek grunted with what sounded like a chuckle, and then faced them.

"Right now."

--------

Panic and fear were like a magnifying lens on physical response. The beads of sweat that climbed their individual paths down Ubuu's forehead became rivers of failure, reminders that he had accomplished nothing in the past 16 years of training- he couldn't even avenge one man. That was all he wanted to do. On his back, the gritty concrete slid against the tiny cuts and splits of skin. A shard of glass embedded in his shoulder dug in further, and he let out a sharp gasp of breath, ventilating between his shut teeth to keep from screaming. Slamming the dorsal part of his skull against the brick behind him, he pressed his body closer to the building, keeping himself flush in the dark alley, hoping to not be seen by J'erah, who was still on the warpath.

Is this what he had been reduced to? Ubuu shut his eyes tightly to curse the flood of tears that suddenly rolled to the forefront of his vision. The droplets of water squeezed from the clamped covers to mix with his sweat and blood, forming an amalgamate of all of his weakness. Together, the three swirled from his face, and landed with a dull thud on the broken ground below. Hiding. He had worked for all of these years to end up in hiding. What good was he? What good was he to himself or anyone else? The anger that began to swell in his chest nearly caused a jump in his ki, and he fought for control, shoving the power into the recesses of his being...

The small increase was like a flare in the night.

Suddenly, the wall shattered behind him, an invisible fist planted against his spinal cord. As a rag doll, Ubuu launched forward. The lowered ki in addition with his already weakened state proved to only enhance the pain of his forehead slamming through the brick barrier ahead of him, and he could feel the skin break and give way to a flow of crimson blood. While his body tumbled through the infrastructure of the building, the corners gave way and toppled over above him. After a loud rumble, the entire concrete tower started to collapse. Having nothing else to do, Ubuu lifted his arms to deflect the steel and rock alike that were crumbling against his frame. Raising his ki would only mean having to escape J'erah's vision again, which proved to be an arduous task in and of itself.

A steel beam collided against the bone of his forearm, causing a small fracture to ripple through. The warrior cursed loudly, and fell helplessly to the floor, his weight cracking the tiling... There had to be something below this. In a surprising stroke of strategy, the human rolled over, and threw his fists through the linoleum. The floor gave way, and he could feel himself plow through to the basement area, bringing rubble with him.

Ubuu glanced upwards. The hole he had left was beginning to become unstable- tiny cracks were launching either direction in a spider web shape. It didn't take a genius to know that he had to get out. J'erah's ki was just on the street opposite... With a quick leap, the fighter pushed his body upwards and to the right, diving in a diagonal cut through the furthest corner of the building's foundation. That had been all it needed. Standing on only three supports, the entire thing rolled to the left and came crashing down on top of the Galactic. He was definitely going to be pissed...

Ubuu decided he wouldn't stick around to find out. But he certainly didn't have enough time to escape with no ki- he wouldn't be moving fast enough to get any kind of distance on the general. He ran quickly through his options... On an unexplained impulse, he focused all of his ki together, removing it from his body, and thrusting it behind a building on the other end of the square. The technique was something he had explored many years ago after a brief skirmish with Galactic troops. It was almost like ventriliquism, but it projected his life essence, rather than his voice, somewhere else. However, it took an awful lot of focus to keep the illusion up...

"AHHH!!" The rubble that had encased J'erah exploded into life, elevating into the sky. It shot outwards in all directions, kicking up clouds of dust and debris around the arena. Ubuu dove hurriedly into an alley next to him, falling down on his knees, and pressing himself against a wall there. He closed his eyes, and tried to keep his ki doing the same thing several hundred yards away. The hard part was making sure that J'erah did not have a clear line of vision to where he thought the ki was- otherwise, the game was up. Better keep things realistic... Ubuu started to decrease the amount of power, making it look as if he was shielding himself or trying to elude the other.

"You won't get away that easily!" J'erah cackled from the square. Right on the heels of his echoing laughter came the explosion of another building. The sound was amplified in the ringing of the human's already buzzing head. Ubuu concentrated, and made the projection of his ki zip several yards away. If he could keep this up just a little bit longer, J'erah would hopefully follow, and he could make a run for it. As he put greater distance between his physical body and his presence, the focus was harder to maintain. Luckily, the Galactic was falling for it. He could hear the bootsteps moving further and further away... After what seemed like an eternity, they hit the other side of the clearing.

Now. Ubuu climbed quickly to his feet, running with a limp down the alleyway. Still projecting his ki, he began to hobble as noiselessly as his shuffling feet would allow him to away from J'erah. If he could make it to the subway system, he could just pass out and regain his strength... Each dragged footstep boomed inside of his own eardrums, a rhythmic pounding of fear. Only a little further to go...

Without warning, J'erah's ki disappeared. Ubuu slid to a halt.

"Don't panic," he whispered, aloud so that it was more reassuring. Maybe he was just far away... He pressed out with his senses, but there was nothing. The rain fell in chubby splashes all around him, and the wind sailed its way through the maze of back alleys. Ubuu looked in either direction, his breathing beginning to become more rapid. All sound seemed to pause save for his heartbeat.

_Don't panic._ That sense of akward terror was welling up in his gut, that feeling of being on the edge of a cliff that you can't see. Any second, and you knew you were going to plummet to your death. But you had no idea when it was going to come.

_Don't panic._ A sound from the arena. Unknowingly, Ubuu gasped. He had just realised that when J'erah's ki faded, he had forgotten the charade that he was supposed to be acting out, and had let his focus drop. Now, the Galactic was certain to know... and Ubuu couldn't sense him at all.

The rain drops were beginning to drown out any background noise. His heartbeat was drowning out the rain. Fear was about a millisecond away from stopping his heart completely. Fear of failure. Fear of not coming through. And that would be _his_ legacy.

Behind him, he thought he heard footsteps. Ubuu spun to face absolutely nothing, and stumbled backwards. The pivotal motion caused his hip to brush against an empty trash can, throwing the metallic recepticle with a loud crash to the ground. And with that, the terror siezed hold. The warrior fell over the container, struggling to his feet and sprinting away as fast his limp would manage. He kept throwing glances behind him, slipping and hopping his way down the narrow path, feeling the rain splatter against his face. All he had to do was get to the subway around the next corner...

He slid his way around the turn, grabbing a hold of the brick building to keep his balance. It flung him around the curve, only to slam into the solid frame of a body in front of him, standing still and gazing down at his obvious shock.

_Panic._


	19. Chapter 18

A/N: As Much as I enjoy writing this, I have to say that the lack of feedback is somewhat discouraging. I don't write to get a response from others, but I feel my energies might be dedicated to a story which has more appeal. I will come back to this I'm sure, I have further chapters written and in various stages of Editing, but for now I think I'm moving on to another project. If you are a reader of this or any of my works, do leave some feedback, good/bad (and hopefully constructive in either case) that's the best way to help me grow as a writer. Best to you all. Enjoy!

17 was just about as surprised as Ubuu, who was recoiling in fright.

"Ubuu!" he exclaimed in hushed whisper. He reached out quickly, clamping his hand over the other's mouth before he shouted. The fighter's eyes opened wide, and his breathing turned into a sharp gasp for air. "It's us!"

18 stepped next to him, a look of concern crossing her soft eyes. "My god, what happened to you?"

"He fought J'erah, it's not exactly a cakewalk." 17 studied the man's face for a second, watching the maturity begin to sink in amidst the unrecognizable hardened visage left by battle and ridiculous fear. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Ubuu was always an unshaken pillar of strength, just like Goku had been before him. And now, it was revealed that he, too, was human after all, capable of folly, capable of downfall.

"You're safe now." After a dawning moment of relief, Ubuu promptly passed out. Their leader collapsed before them, and his limbs fell limp from exhaustion.

"We need to hurry," 17 spoke quietly.

"You're right, J'erah is close."

Together they knelt, and 18 helped her counterpart toss Ubuu over his shoulder. With speed and grace, they turned, darting down the alleyway, taking the time to pause and listen every few seconds, making sure that no one was following them. After several minutes of the start and stop routine, the two backtracked and found the hidden subway entrance. 18 drew her firearm, and hopped down first, clearing the area before 17 followed. Just as it had been left, the small speed craft was waiting for them upon arrival. The android approached it, laid Ubuu down carefully in the back.

"You're lucky to be alive, friend," he reminded his silent comrade.

The lights from the subway were flickering on and off randomly, barely illuminating the series of tunnels laid out before them. The disabled fixtures provided a steady buzzing noise, shooting up and down the rails as they took turns displaying dusty brilliance. Outside, the rain trickled in through cracks of the ceiling. Several drops splashed onto 17's head, and he looked up to find their source. The cold beads of water connected with his skin several times in succession. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was actually sensing the cool feel of moisture on epidermis, or if it was a sensation triggered by the mechanics implanted inside of him. How much of him could actually feel? And was it a normal amount of sensitivity? Enhanced? Downplayed? Perhaps one day, he would know. When things returned to normal. If they did.

His runaway thoughts realigned to the present when he turned to see 18 gazing down at Ubuu from the passenger seat. It had been her suggestion, no, urging that prompted them to return to find their friend. He hadn't seen that kind of look in her eyes since she had last been with her husband...

How did she do it? Cocking his head to one side, he observed her. How did she break past looking at herself as nothing more than an artificial being? Synthetics, parts, circuits, and flesh. That's all that 17 could see himself as. Why try to be something you're not? Why pretend? But watching her watching him- he only felt envy for her. If it was really envy. For all he knew, it was a psychosomatic response generated by artificial impulses. Whatever it was, he knew that he longed for it, too. He wanted that kind of hope. Perhaps that's what the Wayward really needed. Perhaps that's what anyone needed...

"Ok, let's get out of here," 17 shook his head, and sat down at the speeder. "I'm starting to freak myself out."

"It's ok," 18 answered lazily, still looking down at Ubuu. She tossed him a sideways glance, and flashed a crooked grin. "You freak me out, too."

"Whatever... ugly." He kicked up the engines, and the whirring jets squealed to life. They launched from their standstill to rapid velocity, screaming down the tunnels.

"What was that?" She asked in his ear.

"Sorry, can't hear you," 17 responded. "I'm too busy driving." The other's retort was simply a small blow to the ribs. He smiled, and made a sharp left. Just ahead, they were going to find the entrance to the Wayward compound. Hopefully, they could put this mess of a day behind them. Everything was going to work out.

For now.

-------

As always, the lab was a hustle-and-bustle centerpoint of activity. Dr. Derhat brushed his way past the onlookers, coworkers, and fellow scientists, ignoring their solemn pleas of "are you alright?" and "I was so worried". The shuffling of papers, ultraviolet lights, and ringing of footsteps filled his ears as he crossed the area. After making his routine sweep of the lower lab, he entered a set of double-metallic doors that led to the holding room. The holding room was a small, secure office that permitted him entry to his private sector, where he performed his most priceless research and experimentation. The bright lights inside flickered twice, and he wiped the sweat from his brow.

The communicator buzzed to life in his hand once more. "Suspect has escaped," an anonymous voice informed the masses that were listening. "Repeat, all suspects have escaped." Suddenly, a new voice, deeper, joined the mix. J'erah. "Continue search." A slew of "yes sir's" answered back.

With a combination of anger, relief, and defeat, the scientist slammed the communicator on the ground, where it promptly shattered to pieces. "Sorry, Durt," he told the security officer as he passed the man's desk. He retrieved his passcard from his labcoat pocket, and slid it in to unlock the door. After a light hiss, it opened.

One of the biggest days of his career, completely ruined. And all because of J'erah. Derhat was somewhat naive, but he knew when he was being made expendable in the eyes of others. It had happened to him practically all of his life. And now was no different. The Galactic officials were obviously intending to catch whoever it was that they had set up to assassinate him. He imagined, knowing J'erah, that it made no lick of difference whether he survived or not; someone would just be moved up into his position. The young scientist brushed his wirey hair behind his ears, and cursed loudly as he gazed upon the private labratory.

"Of all the miserable luck..."

Trashed. Everything was completely torn apart. Computers, tables, chairs, desks, research papers- all strewn about the floor. What the hell? He turned back out to the holding room, rushing with what little strength he had left. As he did so, one of the shoelaces on his left foot came untied rather quickly, and in no time flat, he was on his face. Grumbling in frustration, he pulled himself up to a stand at Durt's desk.

"Durt, something's happened to-"

He stopped in midsentence. Durt wasn't there. Had he even been there before? Or did the doctor just pass by in anger, without even noticing the man's absence?

"Durt?" Derhat lifted himself on the edge of his toes, peeking over the back of the desk. From the corner of his vision, he could see the heel of a black security officer's boot. With a rushed scramble, he pulled himself over the top, slipping on a sign-in datapad, and tumbled head over heels to the floor. He landed with a loud crash, kicking up papers as he slammed through the chair that was waiting to break his fall. This day was just getting better and better...

The young scientist rolled over on his side, turning his gaze to see the limp body of his long time bodyguard, Durt. A hole was blown clean through his chest, and a spray of blood coated the floor underneath. The Galactic leaped to his feet, stumbling backwards against the wall. He had seen autopsies on animals and humans and things of that nature before in his schooling, but this was far different from that. The stench of ozone and blood soared like death to his nostrils, and he fought the incredible urge to vomit. Clumsily pulling a tissue from his unwashed pants pocket, he lifted the cloth to his mouth to keep away the stench. A glance at the edges of the wound told him that it was cauterized- intense heat from a ki blast no doubt. Maybe the security cameras could tell him something...

Derhat hurriedly punched the code in the computer to access the data recorder for the holding room, and, just as he suspected, it came up empty. Someone had removed the file. Whoever it was, they certainly went through a bit of trouble. So what were they after?

Stepping timidly over the dead body of his coworker, the scientist hopped back towards the labratory, making his way inside. A perusal of the room showed that the culprit was mainly just making a big mess more than anything else. If he knew what he was after, he should have found it. Nothing of dire importance was located in the filing cabinets and computer records he kept on _this_ floor...

He stopped dead in his tracks. No. That couldn't be it. The Galactic darted to the other side of the room, sliding to a halt before a massive table. Though it looked to weigh well over a ton, he briskly remedied the situation by the brief press of a button on the underside of the left corner. It lifted, and slid aside. As it parted from its place on the metal floor, it moved to reveal a small but distinct hatch engraved into the tiling. Kneeling down, Derhat inspected it to find just what he had expected- burn marks around the edges.

Someone had unknowingly grasped a hold of the handles on either side, only to find that it was booby-trapped with a high emission of ki extract. Basically, anyone that touched it without entering in the passcode on the underside of the table was given a handsome reward for his efforts. And _nobody_ should even know that any of this was here... Though the naive part of him wanted to believe that they couldn't possibly be after what he thought they were after, deep down he knew. Which is why this whole thing didn't make any kind of sense. It could be that the theif was searching for the data on the centurion upgrade, located below... but he doubted it.

Shaking his head, the scientist stood, restoring the table to its original place. He would figure out other things later- right now, he had to get this mess taken care of. Reaching for what was left of his communication screen, Derhat pressed the button that would page General Abgar. He always hated these kinds of conversations... he had never been good with people. Which is mostly why he became a scientist. In an instant, the plump face of the grotesque Galactic fighter flashed into view.

"What do _you_ want?" he spat immediately, sending globules of spittle onto the screen.

"Oh, um, sorry sir," Derhat replied, taken back by the forecfulness of the General. "I have a bit of an emergency here in my lab... a really enormous security breach, to be exact."

Abgar rolled his eyes. "No one really cares about your lab right now, Derhat. We're trying to catch the Wayward that nearly killed you. If you _really_ want us to drop what we're doing, and play detective for your research..."

"No, sir, I appreciate it, it's just that..." the wirey-haired scientist paused. Should he tell Abgar about the lower level? After all, he was the head of security...

"What is it?" Abgar grunted in irritation. "I haven't got all day, Derhat."

"Nothing, it's just that... Well, Durt is dead."

Abgar didn't seem the least bit affected. "Well, I've already sent someone down to clean up the mess, so they should be there momentarily."

Derhat narrowed his brow. "Wait, who said anything about a mess?"

"Well, that's usually what comes with dead bodies," the General answered in mock indignation. "Durt was too old to try to put up a fight with some crazed Wayward attacker anyway."

"How do you know it was the Wayward?" Derhat asked, confused. In the holding room beyond, he could hear the sounds of several Galactic officers entering one by one, starting their efficient and quick clean-up process. Durt was just going to be thrown out like another piece of garbage.

"Does that brain of yours accomplish anything?" Abgar growled. He was growing irritated now. "Think about it, Derhat. They try to assassinate you, and they try to find and eliminate your process on the new Centurions. One way or the other, they were hoping to stop them from being completed."

The young Galactic cocked an eyebrow. It was possible, but it didn't seem too logical. "How do you explain them getting past the other labratory? And why aren't you concerned that they got in to the Palace?"

"I'm looking into it. They're tricky bastards, aren't they?" Abgar shot him a look across the monitor that screamed "drop it"- he was getting really annoyed. Derhat never understood how such a non-people person was made into the operator of security- a branch of power that relied on its head being understanding and concerned. With a sigh, he decided not to press the issue anymore. Too much pressure, and Abgar would start wondering what he was so worried about them finding- and that would only attract unwanted attention.

"Yeah," Derhat nodded. "I guess they are."

Abgar huffed smugly. Beings of lesser intellect were always pleased to take home some kind of verbal victory. "Is there anything else you would like to report, good doctor? See any suspicious bugs looking at you funny?"

"No, sir," the scientist breathed quietly. "Sorry for-"

"Good." The image shut off without even waiting for a response of any kind. He shook his head. What more could he expect from Abgar? He would have to sort this whole thing out himself, then. Luckily, the lower level had been kept secure, or else he would have a serious problem on his hands.

The clean up team was moving inside now, searching for more things to remove from the labratory. No one asked if they should be careful with this or that- they just started moving things around. It was just as well, Derhat thought. Nothing here was that important, anyhow. He brushed past the team of officers timidly, and exited the holding room, sprayed down with disinfectant to remove the blood that was splattered on the wall and floor. As he left the sterile hall, the Galactic obtained a small datapad from his breast pocket. First things first...

Finding a chair and a computer, he sat down quietly, waiting for the screen to load while he plugged the small device into it. When it finally did, he opened the database on Galactic criminals. Making sure that nobody was paying any attention, he leaned forward slightly, and typed the word "Ubuu."

After seeing a brief flash of information, he stood, turning the computer off as he did so. He had what he needed. It was just a hunch, but perhaps it would pay off.

And maybe he could meet the man that saved his life.


End file.
